"Quite so. But you have a mole on your forehead just above the left eyebrow. I knew you by that; and then I have a splendid memory for faces, and yours--" Ireland bowed gallantly--"is too beautiful to forget easily." Mrs. Ward shrugged her shoulders. She did not want compliments, but she wished very much to get out of the trouble in which she found herself involved. "It's a most remarkable memory," she said. "It is, madam," assented Ireland; "my memory was always considered remarkable. And the fact is that I was thinking of the murder almost at the moment I entered the hall. Consequently your face was in my mind's eye. That made the chance of recognizing you more sure. Had I not been thinking of old days I might not have guessed so readily who you were." "Why were you thinking of the murder, then?" asked Derrington. "Well, my lord, you sent for me to speak with me about George--" Mrs. Ward gave a short laugh, and Derrington smiled--"so I was naturally thinking of George; such a thought led to my thinking of his parents, and finally I remembered the circumstance of your son's death, as I thought you might wish to talk of it, and therefore desired to get my memory in order. In this way did I recognize the lady." "This is all very well," said Mrs. Ward. "You say you recognize me, Mr. Ireland. Is that your name?" "It is, but your memory is not so good as mine. We met only once." Derrington was not so sure if Mrs. Ward's memory was not good, for he remembered how she had tried to get away before the arrival of Ireland. "Go on! Go on!" he said irritably. "I wish to know the worst." "The worst is that I am supposed to have killed Percy Vane," said Mrs. Ward, coolly. "So you accuse me of that?" she asked Ireland. "By no means. But you were at that ball----" "I was. In a blue domino with a sprig of holly at my breast." "And you were with Mr. Vane?" "No, I was not!" "You went out with Mr. Vane." "I did not. It was my sister." "Your sister!" said Derrington. "Hah!" and he relapsed into silence. Mrs. Ward shot a suspicious look at him, but his inscrutable face betrayed nothing. "I remember," said Ireland, in a slow, prosy way, "that there were two Miss Howards at San Remo--at the Hotel d'Angleterre. They were with their father, General Howard. I never met them, but Mr. Vane went frequently to call at the house." "He did," said Mrs. Ward, "if by house you mean the hotel. The fact is, my sister Jenny was in love with Captain Vane----" "I heard it was you," said Ireland, distrustfully. "It was my sister," said Mrs. Ward, coldly. "We thought Mr. Vane would marry her, but he certainly showed no signs of proposing. I suppose he was too fond of his dead wife," and she shot a sneering look at Lord Derrington, who winced. "Don't say a word against Rosina Lockwood," said Ireland, quickly. "You see what he calls her," said Mrs. Ward to Derrington. "There was no marriage." "Ma'am!" cried Ireland, rising.