On his part, Captain Larcher was relieved to find that Mrs. Bezel proved to be Mona Bantry instead of his wife. Ever since the communication made by Claude, he had suffered agonies at the thought that his wife had been living all these years under the protection of his false friend. Now that fear was set at rest once and forever. Julia Larcher had really died, as Hilliston had asserted, and the woman in Clarence Cottage, who had taken her name, was the maid in place of the mistress. Out of all the trouble Larcher extracted this morsel of comfort, his honor was unstained. Meanwhile the three visitors sat waiting to hear what Mrs. Bezel had to say. She saw that they expected a confession, and resolved to disappoint them. Leaning backward among her cushions, she closed her eyes, and played a waiting game. It proved successful, for in two minutes or thereabouts Captain Larcher broke out. His temper was none of the best, and recent events had not tended to improve it." "Well, madam," he said sharply, rapping his stick on the ground, "I am waiting to hear what you have to say." "I have nothing to say," said Mrs. Bezel quietly. "Oh, yes, you have," began Tait. "As you set the ball----" But at this moment he was interrupted by Larcher. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Tait, but I will question this woman myself. Pray do not speak, nor you, Claude, till I have done." Both young men bowed their heads and acquiesced in silence. After all, the captain was the proper person to examine Mona Bantry. He knew more of the case than anyone else, and conversant as he was with the events of that fatal night, he would know whether she spoke truly or falsely. Mrs. Bezel looked uneasy on hearing his resolution, but only compressed her lips tighter as though resolved to let nothing escape her. But he was a match for her in obstinacy. "Now then," said Larcher, turning to her, "relate your history from the moment you left me alone with my wife twenty-five years ago at The Laurels." "It would not help you if I did." "I'm not so sure of that. But I understand. You are afraid of incriminating yourself." "I!" exclaimed Mrs. Bezel indignantly. "What have I to do with the matter. I know nothing of it. I left the house then and there, and only heard of the tragedy while I was concealed at Horriston, more than a week afterward." "Why did you state to my son that Mrs. Larcher threatened me with the dagger." "So she did," said Mrs. Bezel coolly. "I saw her hand raised, I saw the dagger in it." "You saw the sheath of the dagger, you mean," retorted Larcher; "it fell on the floor and was found there next day. But the weapon with which the crime was committed was lost by my wife at the ball." "It may have been," said the woman indifferently. "I don't know anything about it." "Did not Jeringham show it to you when you joined him in the garden?"