"Oh, perhaps. No--look here. He says, 'I had not previously met Sir Silas Minting, as I left Berlin before he arrived in the beginning of June.'" The Imp laid down the Journal, leant back in her chair, and regarded Neeld steadily. "You told me right," she added; "I don't find any mention of my mother--nor of Heidelberg. It's rather funny that he doesn't mention Heidelberg." She poured out a second cup of tea and--waited. The first part of her work was done. She had made Neeld very uncomfortable. "Because," she added, after she had given her previous remarks time to soak in, "between May and August 1875 is just about the time I remember him at Heidelberg--the time when he met Mrs Fitzhubert, you know." She nodded her head slightly toward the window, the window that looked down to the valley and gave a view of the house where Lady Tristram lay. Mina was keenly excited now. Had the Journal told Neeld anything? Was that the meaning of his asterisks? "There was something about his visit to Heidelberg, but it contained nothing of public interest, Madame Zabriska, and in my discretion I omitted it." "Why didn't you tell me that the other day? You gave me to understand that he only mentioned Heidelberg casually." "I may have expressed myself----" "And did he mention us?" Neeld rose to his feet and took a turn up and down the room. "In my discretion I left the passage out. I can answer no questions about it. Please don't press me, Madame Zabriska." "I will know," she said excitedly, almost angrily. Neeld came to a stand opposite her, deep perplexity expressing itself in his look and manner. "Did he talk about us? Did he talk about Lady Tristram?" "I am speaking to you, and to you only, Madame Zabriska?" "Yes, yes--to me only." "He did mention you, and he did speak of Lady Tristram." "That's why you weren't surprised when I told you he called me the Imp!" She smiled a moment, and Neeld smiled too. But in an instant she was eager again. "And about Lady Tristram?" "It was no use reprinting poor Lady Tristram's story." He sat down again, trying to look as though the subject were done with; but he rubbed his hands together nervously and would not meet Mina's eyes. There was a long pause; Mina rose, took the Journal, put it in the cupboard and turned the key on it. She came back and stood over him. "You know?" she said. "It was in the Journal? I'm sure you know." "Know what?" Mr Neeld was fighting in the last ditch. "But I don't want to tell you unless you know! No, I'm sure you know!" "And do you know?" "Yes, I know. My mother told me." They understood one another now. Neeld made no further pretence. "You mean about Harry Tristram?" he asked, simply, but in a low voice. "Yes. At first I didn't know what it meant to him. But I know now."