"God forbid! God forbid!" cried Mrs. Coppersley piously and with a shudder, "but you cannot deny that you were alone in the house." "And locked in my bedroom, as you can testify." "Oh, I'll say that willingly. But you'd better wash out that cup of dregs, and say nothing more." "I have already mentioned the matter in Tunks' hearing, so I must explain further if necessary. But I'll say why I believe my father acted so. Your story of sleepless nights will not do for me." "You'll blacken the memory of the dead," groaned Mrs. Coppersley dismally. "Ah, you never loved your poor father." "Did you?" asked Bella suddenly. "In a way I did, and in a way I didn't," said her aunt evasively. "Jabez never was the brother he should have been to me. But a daughter's nearer than a sister, and you should have loved him to distraction." "In spite of the way he behaved to me." "He had to keep a firm hand over your high spirit." "Aunt Rosamund," burst out Bella at white heat. "Why do you talk in this silly way? You know that both to you and to me my father acted like a cruel tyrant, and that while he was alive we could do nothing to please him. I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but you know what I say is true." "We are none of us perfect," snuffled Mrs. Coppersley, wiping her eyes, "and I daresay Jabez was worse than many others. But I was a good sister to him, in spite of his horrid ways. I'm sure my life's been spent in looking after other people: first my mother, then my husband, and afterwards Jabez. Now I'll marry Henry Vand, and be happy." "Don't talk of happiness with that"--Bella pointed downward to the study--"in the house. Go and make yourself tidy, aunt, and I'll do the same. We have a very trying day before us." "So like Jabez, so very like Jabez," wailed Mrs. Coppersley, while Bella fled up the stairs. "He always brought trouble on everyone. Even as a little boy, he behaved like the pirate he was. Oh, dear me, how ill I feel. Bella! Bella! come down and see me faint. Bella! Bella!" But the girl did not answer, as she knew that Mrs. Coppersley only wished to gossip. Going to her own room, she again examined the cup with the dregs, which she had not locked up, in spite of her saying so to Mrs. Coppersley. Undoubtedly, the tea tasted bitter, and she resolved to have it analysed so as to prove to herself the fact of the drugging. She knew perfectly well that her father had attended to the tea himself, evidently to render her helpless in case she meditated flight with Cyril. And in dong so, he had indirectly brought about his own death, for had she been awake she could have descended from the window to be present at the interview which had ended so fatally. And at this point--while she was locking up the cup in a convenient cupboard--Bella became aware that she was thinking as though her lover were actually guilty of the deed.