"No, m'lord," said Victoria, and, with a glance full of suspicion at Bernard's back, she withdrew as noiselessly as she entered, and with a final curtsey, such as might have been made by a wooden doll. Indeed, Victoria--a most inappropriate name--might well have been cut out of wood, so stiff and angular and hard did she look. Conniston did not wonder that placid Mrs. Moon could not control this embryo virago. A combat between them would be like that between an elephant and a mosquito, with the betting on the insect. "That's a mistake, Dick," said Bernard, when the door closed. "What is?" asked Conniston, staring. "Telling that girl to hold her tongue. She has no reason to suspect me, and quite as likely as not thought me merely your guest. Now she will fancy all sorts of things." "I hope not," said Conniston, uneasily, "but she's such a little devil that I thought it best to give her one for herself. And if she chatters she will lose her situation. I am so afraid lest she should be in communication with Jerry." "Jerry?" "Judas. The grandson of Mrs. Moon who robbed Taberley. He and Victoria were as thick as thieves, and are about equal in wickedness. If the girl suspected anything she might ask Judas to help her to learn more of the truth than we want known. Both would sell their nearest and dearest for a pound. But don't bother, Bernard," said the easy-going Dick, again crossing to the sofa, "everything is right." "I hope so, I hope so," muttered Gore. "If I am arrested I cannot make any defence." "We'll talk of that later. Here comes Mrs. Moon with the wine, and so speedily that I suspect she must have out a bottle for her private drinking. I say, Mrs. Moon," said Conniston, as the giantess entered with a silver tray and the wine, "don't let Victoria leave the castle on any account." "I should think not," said Mrs. Moon, setting down the tray. "She works little enough as it is without trapesing about on holidays. I'd keep her under lock and key on bread and water if I had my way, and if she wasn't too strong for me, the besom that she is!--begging your dear lordship's pardon. Anything else, my lord?" "No. You can go." "And glad I am to go," said Mrs. Moon, withdrawing with a ponderous step, "being engaged in playing kings." "Kings," said Conniston, when she vanished. Bernard, in spite of his sadness, laughed and explained. "It's a game of patience," he said. "I asked Mrs. Moon for a pack of cards to pass the time, and was playing the game myself. She was curious; so, to keep her in a good temper, I taught it to her. Ever since she has been playing it unsuccessfully." "Oh!" Conniston was not interested in his housekeeper's games. He opened the bottle of port and carefully poured out a full glass, which he passed to Bernard. "Drink that up, you sinner."