It was all very well for Craver to give this sound advice, but hard for the girl to take it. Usually she was sensible, but the long continued strain on her nerves was breaking her down. Also she was jealous of her elderly rival, who was clever, rich, and persistent. Of course, Edwin could be trusted, still he was only a man, and men are wax in the hands of women. Claudia would have liked to go also to Maranatha in order to protect her man from the vile machinations of Lady Wyke, But she could not trust herself. She would be sure to say something or do something which would give her hostess the advantage, so it was wiser to risk nothing. Edwin went alone, and then Claudia returned to her room to spend an uncomfortable hour or so of suspense. The young man walked briskly along the road and turned into Ladysmith Road about four o'clock. He soon arrived at the square, red bricked mansion and paused to stare at it. Maranatha had been greatly improved by its present tenant. The lawns were trim and clean-shaven; the elms were clipped, and looked more civilised, while the house itself had a more inhabited and less dismal look. Edwin nodded to himself in approval of Lady Wyke's cleaning-up and restoration, then walked up the neat path and rang the bell. When a. sedate-looking footman introduced him into the hall he shivered a little, at the memory of the late tragedy, but recovered himself when shown into the drawing-room. This, was upstairs, the very room where Oliver Lemby had been waiting on that fatal night. But it presented quite a different appearance now from what it did then, although the visitor did not know this. Formerly dusty and untidy when attended to by Mrs. Vence, it was now cheerful, bright, and comfortable. A fire was burning in the grate, there was a new and brilliant carpet, while the old-fashioned furniture had been renovated and polished so as to look like new. Showy coloured rugs and draperies made the vast apartment look gay, and everywhere there were hothouse flowers of rainbow hues. The scent of pastilles burning in bronze vases made the atmosphere languid, indisposing those who breathed it to transformation from gloom to brightness as had taken place in Maranatha. And the author of the transformation rose from a sofa on which she was reclining to greet her visitor. "I am so glad to see you," she said softly, and he noted that her shrill voice was now low and gentle. "I feared you would not come." But Edwin was not to be taken in by her wiles, and only lightly touched her hand outstretched in greeting. "I certainly came, Lady Wyke," he observed, coldly, "because your letter intimated that you wished to speak to me about something connected with the death of your late husband." "Does that interest you?" she asked, indicating a seat and sinking down on to the sofa. "Surely. You hinted to Miss Lemby that her father had something to do with the matter, and for Miss Lemby's sake I am interested."