She glanced at him quickly, evidently taken somewhat aback by the suddenness of his question. "My dear Dudley," she laughed, "I should have thought you knew all about your guests by this time. She is Sir Henry Meldrum's ward." "I know that," he said, a trifle impatiently. "But who were her parents?" "I've never heard," she replied. "I don't think any one knows. Possibly it is some family secret. At least, I've always thought so." "Then you have already endeavoured to find out?" "Of course. Curiosity is woman's nature." "And have you discovered nothing of her birth, or who she is?" "Nothing whatever. A month ago I even went so far as to ask Lady Meldrum." "And what was her answer?" he inquired eagerly. "She said that her parentage was a matter that concerned only Muriel herself. Indeed, she seemed quite huffy that I should have dared to broach the subject. But you know how sore that kind of person is in regard to certain points." "Then Lady Meldrum gave no reason why Muriel was her husband's ward?" "No. Her reply was a polite negative to all inquiries." He was silent for a few minutes, leaning against the table and facing her. "How did you first become acquainted with this estimable pair, Claudia? Tell me, for they interest me." "You mean that Muriel interests you," she laughed mischievously. "No, I mean that the whole affair appears to me full of mystery." "I first met Lady Meldrum at a bazaar with which I was connected in aid of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. We held a stall together." "You had never met her, or known her before?" "Never. She was the wife of a Glasgow knight, and quite unknown in London." "Was Muriel with her at the bazaar?" "I did, not see her. I believe she was away visiting somewhere. Lady Meldrum spoke of her, I recollect quite distinctly." "And it was you who afterwards introduced her in town. I presume she owes all her social success to you?" "Yes, I believe she does," she replied. "Then I consider it curious that she has never confided in you the secret of Muriel's birth. She surely could not expect you to stand sponsor for a girl of whom you knew nothing?" "Oh, how absurdly you talk, Dudley!" she laughed airily. "Whatever is in your mind? If Muriel Mortimer amuses you, as apparently she does, what does her parentage matter? Sir Henry and her ladyship are perfectly respectable persons, and even though they may be of somewhat plebeian origin they don't offend by bad manners. Can it be that your thirst for knowledge is due to a vague idea that Muriel might one day be the _chatelaine_ of this place, eh?" She looked him full in the face with the dark and brilliant eyes that had always held him spellbound. She was a clever woman, and with feminine intuition knew exactly the power she possessed over the man whom she loved with a passion so fierce and uncurbed that she had been led to overstep the conventionalities.