"Ah!" sneered the detective, "will it be news to Mr. Blake?" "Sir!" cried Miss Hargone, rising, with a flush of anger, "you are insolent!" "No," said Torry, who wished to make her lose her temper that she might speak incautiously, "I am only candid. Donna Maria will agree with me, miss, that you are a very lucky young lady to be loved by three men. To be sure," added Torry, as to himself, "there are only two now." Donna Maria, who had sat pale, calm, and silent during their conversation, darted a flaming glance at Lydia but said nothing. The look made the governess quail, but retaining her self-command, she pretended ignorance. She had a difficult part to play, but she played it well. "I do not quite understand," said she quietly. "Perhaps, sir, you will explain. Who are my lovers?" "Mr. Blake to whom you are engaged; Mr. Frederick Leighbourne, with whom you have some understanding; and the late Mr. Grent." Lydia grew red. "I am engaged to Roderick Blake," she said, "and he trusts me too much to believe your insinuations. With Mr. Leighbourne I have nothing to do." "Save in the way of telegrams," put in Torry drily. "That telegram contained an intimation that Mr. Leighbourne had found a situation for me," cried Lydia hotly. "I asked him to interest himself on my behalf." "In that case you will not mind shewing me the telegram, miss?" "I cannot; I tore it up." "You can collect the pieces, and----" "I cannot; I threw the pieces into the fire." "Really? A fire in summer time--how strange." At this last thrust Miss Hargone lost her temper. "Understand, Mr. Torry," she cried, "that the telegram concerns me and no one else. I decline to shew it to you." "I quite believe that, as it has to do with this murder." "You dare to accuse me of that?" gasped Lydia, jumping up. Torry shrugged his shoulders. "No," he said coolly, "I don't think you killed the man yourself; but you know who did." "It is a lie," said the governess in a passionate voice, and sat down again. "It is the truth," said Donna Maria gravely, and when Lydia turned an amazed face towards her she repeated solemnly: "It is the truth." "Oh, oh," chuckled the detective, rubbing his hands at the idea of a quarrel between the two women, "now we shall hear something amusing." At first Lydia could not believe that her friend was in earnest, and stammered out something about not understanding. To this Maria made a prompt and sharp reply. "You understand well enough. My aunt complained of your conduct with Mr. Grent. I did not believe that you would behave so with a married man old enough to be your father. It was to show that I believed in your innocence that I asked you down here. My aunt objected to the invitation, but I insisted upon its being sent. You accepted; you came; you are here." "Here, to save you trouble," cried Lydia venomously. "You would not have asked me had it not been to get something out of me."