Diana, quite unconscious of having, like her namesake, the moon, caused this springtide of the heart, could not forbear a glance of surprise, but greeted her coadjutor without embarrassment and with all friendliness. Her thoughts were too taken up with her immediate task of exploring the scene of the crime to waste time in conjecturing the reason of the young man's blushes. Yet the instinct of her sex might have told her the truth, and probably it would have but that it was blunted, or rather not exercised, by reason of her preoccupation. "Have you the key, Mr. Denzil?" said she eagerly. "No; but I have seen the landlord, and he has given us permission to go over the house. A charwoman who is cleaning up the place will let us in." "A charwoman," repeated Miss Vrain, stopping short, "and cleaning up the house! Is it, then, about to receive a new tenant?" "Oh, no; but the landlord wishes it to be aired and swept; to keep it in some degree of order, I presume." "What is the name of this woman?" "Mrs. Kebby." "The same mentioned in the newspaper reports as having waited on my unhappy father?" "The same," replied Lucian, with some hesitation; "but I would advise you, Miss Vrain, not to question her too closely about your father." "Why not? Ah! I see; you think her answers about his drinking habits will give me pain. No matter; I am prepared for all that. I don't blame him so much as those who drove him to intemperance. Is this the house?" she said, looking earnestly at the neglected building before which they were standing. "Yes," replied Lucian, ringing the bell, "it was in this house that your father came to his untimely end. And here is Mrs. Kebby." That amiable crone had opened the door while the young man was speaking, and now stood eyeing her visitors with a blear-eyed look of dark suspicion. "What is't ye want?" she demanded, with a raven-like croak. "Mr. Peacock has given this lady and myself permission to go over the house," responded Lucian, trying to pass. "And how do I know if he did?" grumbled Mrs. Kebby, blocking the way. "Because I tell you so." "And because I am the daughter of Mr. Vrain," said Diana, stepping forward. "Lord love ye, miss! are ye?" croaked Mrs. Kebby, stepping aside. "And ye've come to look at your pa's blood, I'll be bound." Diana turned pale and shuddered, but controlling herself by an effort of will, she swept past the old woman and entered the sitting-room. "Is this the place?" she asked Lucian, who was holding the door open. "That it is, miss," cried the charwoman, who had hobbled after them, "and yonder is the poor gentleman's blood; it soaked right through the carpet," added Mrs. Kebby, with ghoulish relish. "Lor! 'ow it must 'ave poured out!" "Hold your tongue, woman!" said Lucian roughly, seeing that Diana looked as though about to faint. "Get on with your work!"