Prelice contrived to press it in a friendly way, and not kiss it, as he felt strongly inclined to do, but the effort was great. "Then we can go ahead," he said easily; "and as I am now admitted to the inner circle as it were, I should like to know exactly how matters stand. About you, Miss Chent, for instance. Do you remain here?" The girl flushed, and glanced, rather embarrassed, at her lawyer. "Yes!" replied the latter. "Captain Jadby, who undoubtedly inherits, now that the second will has been destroyed, has made no move towards assuming possession of his property. Moreover, there are certain legal formalities to be gone through before he can become the legitimate master of the Grange. Until everything is straight, I suggest that Miss Chent remains in her home." "It is not my home, but Captain Jadby's," answered the girl, colouring painfully. "I would much rather go away. But," she added piteously, yet with a proud effort of self-restraint, "I have nowhere to go to. Uncle Oliver has disinherited me, and my parents died insolvent. If I leave the Grange I go into the world penniless and alone." Prelice winced at the picture she drew. "There is always Ned," he remarked lamely. Miss Ghent shot a swift glance at his distressed face, and answered coldly in his own words. "Yes, there is always Ned." The young man felt more puzzled than ever. Her voice did not sound like that of a girl in love, and as he had gathered from Constance, the man Mona was engaged to, had not given her his heart. But if this was the case--and it was beginning to appear obvious--why had the two agreed to marry? Prelice did not know what to say, so Miss Chent, seeing his embarrassment, explained in a somewhat embarrassed fashion herself. "Ned is poor," she remarked with deliberate self-control; "he has his way to make in the world. It would never do for me to burden him with a pauper wife." "Two are stronger than one, Miss Chent. There is strength in unity." "Not in this case," she retorted; and quietly dismissed the subject. "Will you come to my house, my dear?" said Martaban, who seemed to be devoted to his luckless client, "my wife will be glad to have you." "So will Aunt Sophia," interposed Prelice quickly, and struck with a brilliant idea. "You know my aunt, Miss Chent? Lady Sophia Haken. She is a friend of yours." "Save yourself, Mr. Martaban, and Ned, I have had no friend since I was put on my trial for murder," said Mona in a level voice. "I decline to trouble any person until my innocence is proved." "It has been proved at the trial," said Prelice; and Mr. Martaban echoed the speech. "Legally, but not socially," she rejoined, rising. "I accept your services, Lord Prelice. Learn who killed my uncle, and who stabbed poor Agstone, and earn," she faltered--"and earn my--my gratitude." Prelice looked disappointed. Yet what else could the girl say? CHAPTER XIV. MRS. BLEXEY'S OPINION.