"No!" replied Eugénie. "I came to tell you all about that five-pound note; but I'm sorry to find you so ill." "I'm worn-out," said Kitty fretfully. "All the worry and trouble of my earlier years are beginning to tell on me, and the anxiety of this case is the climax. I believe I'll die soon, and I don't much care, for I have your promise about the child." "You have!--my solemn promise." "Thank you. I don't mind when I die. My life has been a very unhappy one. I've had more than my share of sorrow, and now I would like to go to sleep, and slumber on--on for ever." She finished the sentence in a sleepy tone, then suddenly recollecting why Eugénie had come down, she opened her eyes wide, and spoke briskly. "Well, what about this five-pound note? To whom did it originally belong?" "I'd better go through the whole history," said Eugénie slowly. "I received it from you." "Exactly," interrupted Caprice, raising herself on her elbow; "and I got it from Mortimer. Who gave it to him?" "Mr. Malton, for a gambling debt." "Malton," repeated Kitty vivaciously. "Why, is he--did they--" "Suspect him of the murder. No; because he says he got the note from Ezra Lazarus, and he cannot tell from whom he received it." Kitty was wide awake by this time, and sitting up in bed, pushed the fair curls off her forehead. "But, my dear," she said rapidly, "surely they don't suspect that poor young man of murdering his father?" "Not exactly suspect him," observed Eugénie; "but, you see, Mr. Lazarus cannot account for the possession of that particular note, so that makes things look bad against him." "I don't see why," said Caprice impatiently. "I'm sure I couldn't account for every individual five-pound note I receive--it's absurd;--is that all the case they have against him?" "I think so; but Mr. Naball says--" "Says!" interrupted Kitty impatiently; "Naball's a fool. I often heard what a clever detective he was, but I'm afraid I can't see it. He's mismanaged the whole of this case shamefully. Why he suspects every one all round on the slightest suspicion: first he thought it was me, because I was at Lazarus's place on that night; then he swore it was Villiers, because he found the knife Meg gave Mr. Stewart; then poor Mr. Stewart is arrested simply because he cannot prove an alibi. I daresay, when he found Malton had the note, he suspected him, and now, I'll be bound, he has firmly settled in his own mind that Ezra Lazarus killed his own father--pish! My dear, I tell you again Naball's a fool." "That may be," observed the other woman bitterly; "but he's a fool on whose folly Keith's life depends." "Not a bit of it," said Caprice cheerfully; "we'll find some way to save him yet. The only evidence against him is that knife, and I don't believe it was in his possession at the Bon-Bon Theatre." "Why not?"