Miss Bull's face flushed crimson, and she drew a deep breath. "Oh, it's Violet's work, is it?" she said, and her eyes grew hard. "And pray, Mr. Brendon, has she sent you to cross-question me?" "No. I come on my own behalf. You knew my father?" "Percy Vane. Yes, I knew him. He loved me---ah, indeed he did! That night he asked me to be his wife, and had he not been murdered----" "Did he ask you when he was taking you home?" asked George, wondering how Miss Bull would have behaved as his stepmother. "Taking me home? He never did that on the night of the ball." "Your sister, Mrs. Ward----" "I have no sister. I disown Violet. She is a wicked woman!" George was quite of this opinion, yet for the sake of Dorothy he dissented. "She has her good points, Miss Bull. "No! no! She has no good points. She is selfish, vain, cruel, and deceitful. A child of the devil. How do you know that I am her sister? and how did you come to learn my name?" "Lord Derrington told me, and it was told to him by Mr. Ireland." "Your guardian." Miss Bull tapped her hand on the woodwork of her chair. "He recognized me when I called to see him on that day about the lease. But he promised to hold his tongue." "He would have done so had he not been startled by meeting Mrs. Ward and recognizing in her the woman who had left the ball with my father." "And Violet admitted this?" "No. She said that you had left the ball with my father. It was you who wore the blue domino and the holly sprig." "Liar! Liar!" muttered Miss Bull; "but she is always the same. When I saw her at the music-hall the other night her face wore the same false smile. Oh, that I could see her punished as she deserves!" "God will punish her, Miss Bull." "He has delayed long," said the old maid with a bitter smile. "My sister has enjoyed the good things of this life. She has had money, position, praise, and all that a woman desires. As for myself--" She looked round the room and burst into a bitter laugh. "Yet Jenny Howard was always considered the prettier sister of the two." "Then it really was Mrs. Ward who left the ball." "It was. She lays the blame on my shoulders--" Miss Bull paused, and her mouth worked nervously. "Does she accuse me of the crime?" "No. She says that you left Mr. Vane at the gate of the hotel." "Oh," muttered Miss Bull, "Percy came as far as that with her, did he? And she said he left her at the door of the room where the ball was being held. Liar! Liar! She always was. She always will be. Can the leopard change his spots?"