"Shepworth. Edward Shepworth--Ned for short. We were great chums at Eton, you know. But you say that he isn't clever, then you insist that he is, and wind up by calling him a fool." "You know quite well what I mean," said Lady Sophia with dignity. "I really don't," confessed her nephew artlessly, "you describe such a complex character. However, as I have nothing to do to-day----" "And never have anything to do--idler." "I shall go to the New Bailey, and listen to Ned hanging his client!" "So brilliant a barrister as Mr. Shepworth will certainly get her off," said Lady Sophia decisively. Prelice passed over this new contradiction. "It's a woman?" "Yes. Mona Chent. You know her." "I'm sure I don't. The criminal classes don't attract me." "She is not a criminal, but a lady," said his aunt, as though the two things were incompatible; "and you _do_ know her. Mona Chent, the niece of old Sir Oliver Lanwin." Prelice reflected with bent brows. "I never heard the name before, I assure you, Aunt Sophia," he said at length. "Remember that I have been travelling round the world for the last seven years and know very little of the latest London sensation." "You ought to stay at home, and make yourself acquainted with people, Prelice." "Including this murderess?" "She is not a murderess," cried Lady Sophia energetically. "I always did think that she was a sweet girl, and if she did kill her uncle, it was no more than he deserved. I never liked him." "Therefore he ought to be murdered," said Prelice, rising and stretching himself before the empty grate. "So Sir Oliver was the victim. I have heard of him. He used to send Ned shells and barbaric things from the South Seas. And now Ned is repaying him by defending his murderess." "I tell you Mona did not murder the man. I know her. I have received her. Would I receive a murderess?" "It might be a draw to some of your parties," said Prelice politely, and with a recollection of several dull entertainments. "But I cannot quite gather from your clear explanation if she is guilty or not." "Half London thinks that she is, and half asserts her innocence." "What does Shepworth think?" "He naturally believes her to be innocent." "Because he defends her?" "Because she is his future wife." Prelice looked startled. "Oh, Jerusalem! And if he proves her innocence he'll marry her, I suppose." "As she is her uncle's heiress, and Mr. Shepworth is poor, I presume he will. Ten thousand a year is not to be despised." "But a wife with such a past," protested the young man. "Ugh! Did Miss Chent murder her uncle to get the money?" "She didn't murder him at all. Look at the facts of the case----" "I shall be delighted to, if you will place them before me." "You ought to know all about them," said Lady Sophia, rising impatiently; "everyone has been talking about the case for the last month;--ever since Mona Chent was arrested, in fact."