"Humph! I wonder what that's for," said Brendon, wrinkling his brows, for he knew well that Mrs. Ward did nothing without expecting an equivalent return. Then he recollected her questions about the crime, and wondered if she had invited Leonard so as to pump him. It was just what Mrs. Ward did intend to do, but George could not think she had sufficient interest in the crime to justify such a course of action. Besides, he felt that he could trust Leonard to hold his tongue, in spite of the man's weakness. But in this he reckoned without Mrs. Ward, who could have wiled an anchorite to chatter, had she been so minded. And that is what she was doing at the very moment. Almost as soon as the lovers had disappeared into the yellow boudoir Lord Derrington had taken his departure. He insisted that Vane should come also, and would not allow the little dandy to take leave of Dorothy, nor would he take leave himself. This was done to punish Vane. "Miss Ward is quite happy in there," he said to Mrs. Ward at the door of the drawing-room. "I won't have her disturbed." "Oh, but really," cried Mrs. Ward, who did not want Vane to go away with a bad impression, "Dorothy is simply bored with him." "If she is bored with such a brilliant fellow she would not enjoy the company of Shakespeare himself." "I'm sure I shouldn't," murmured Mrs. Ward. "Shakespeare must have been an awful bore. But do say good-by, Lord Derrington. Dorothy will be so disappointed." "No, she won't," snarled Derrington, who was enjoying himself at thus thwarting Mrs. Ward's schemes. "Come along, Walter. Take me home and tell me your latest ailment. Good-night, Mrs. Ward," and he went. Derrington was chuckling, and Vane looked very sulky, so Mrs. Ward saw that the old man had done this thing to spite her. "Horrid creature!" she pouted; "he ought to be dead and buried. It isn't respectable being alive at his time of life. He'll make Walter Vane angry with me, and I'm sure----" Here she caught, sight of Leonard's astonished face, and became aware she was divulging secrets. At once she smoothed her brow and began to smile. This was an excellent opportunity to find out what she wanted. Taking Leonard's arm she led him to a chair some distance from the door of the boudoir. "Now let us have a nice long talk, dear Mr. Train," she said, settling herself amiably. "Mr. Brendon and Dorothy are no doubt talking tadpoles or frogs or something nasty. They won't be out for a long time, so we can renew our pleasant conversation." "I don't think it was very pleasant," said Train, unwillingly. "What an ungallant thing to say!" "I mean to talk about crime----" "Is most amusing--I mean instructive. Oh, yes, I have read many of those novels--what do they call them?--detective novels." "A very low form of literature," said the superior Leonard.