"Oh, never mind," replied Mrs. Ward, waving her hand. "There is no need for you to lose your temper, my good man. I am not going to speak of the woman----" "She was an angel." "And a woman--that's the generic name for the sex. However, it was my sister Jenny who loved Percy Vane. She would go to the ball, and persuaded me to go with her. We slipped out of the hotel and went without a chaperon. Our father would have been shocked had he known, but it was merely the escapade of two schoolgirls. I went with a friend, and Jenny looked about for Mr. Vane. We agreed to meet after an hour and go home. As there were other blue dominoes at the ball we each wore--" and Mrs. Ward repeated the word to emphasize the fact--"_each_ a sprig of yellow holly. I went to a box to have supper with a certain cousin of mine and my sister then departed with Mr. Vane." "Why did she leave the ballroom?" asked Derrington. "Because Mr. Vane was shocked. He recognized her voice and made her unmask. He insisted on taking her home first, and then intended to return for me, as he could not find me at the moment. They went out together, Mr. Ireland, and that is the last I saw of Mr. Vane." "What was the last your sister saw of him?" "She was at the hotel and in our bedroom when I returned, which I did after looking vainly for her. She said that Mr. Vane had escorted her to the hotel and had left her at the gate at her earnest request, as Jenny was so afraid lest my father should hear of our escapade. She said good-night to Mr. Vane and then went to her room. When we heard of the murder next morning she became very ill and my father took her away. But she always declared to me that she did not know who murdered Percy Vane." "Did your father ever know that she was in Vane's company on that night?" asked Ireland. "Never! We kept our folly a profound secret from him." "Did any one else know?" "You did," said Mrs. Ward sharply; "and Mr. Vane did, and a servant at the hotel--an English servant who attended to us. In fact, it was she who procured the yellow holly by which Jenny and I were to identify one another." "What was her name?" asked Derrington, quickly, and raising himself in his chair with eagerness to hear the answer. "Eliza Stokes." "Ah! I thought so. Mrs. Jersey?" "Yes, Mrs. Jersey. And now, Lord Derrington, you know how I come to take such an interest in the death of that woman." "Yes. But I cannot understand how you came to know that Mrs. Jersey was Eliza Stokes." "That's my business," flashed out Mrs. Ward. "Or why," pursued Derrington, unmoved, "why you sent her the yellow holly?" "Because I was not quite positive if she really was Eliza Stokes. I thought that the yellow holly, being connected in her mind with the death of Mr. Vane, would make her betray herself." "It did in a way--but to Brendon. He would not have told you." "He would doubtless have told Dorothy, and she would have told me."