And Leonard never intended to speak, being weak, but honorable in his own foolish way. But when Mrs. Ward's invitation came he walked blindfolded into a trap set by that clever little woman. She asked Train to dinner, not because she had known his mother--although that was true enough--but for the simple reason that she wished to hear what he knew about the Amelia Square tragedy. Brendon had told her much, but it was probable that Train, being a weak idiot in the hands of a pretty woman like herself, would tell her more. Mrs. Ward was by no means reconciled to the possibility of Brendon marrying her daughter, and wished to find some scandal smirching George, that she might induce Dorothy to break the engagement. She would have utilized the tales about Lola and Brendon, but that she was not sure of her ground in this particular direction, and, moreover, having seen the Spanish dancer, feared lest so passionate a woman should make an open scandal. It was the aim of Mrs. Ward's life to do wrong things, and to avoid troubles arising from them. Therefore, she, for the time being, put Lola on the shelf and arranged in her own scheming mind to make use of Leonard. "I can work him like a lump of putty," said Mrs. Ward, contemptuously. A vulgar illustration, but a true one. Besides, she said it in the solitude of her own room when she was dressing for dinner, so no one heard its vulgarity or its truth. When Leonard entered the drawing-room he was welcomed by Dorothy, who told him that Mrs. Ward would be down shortly. "It is only a small dinner, Mr. Train," she said. "Mr. Vane is coming; no one else." "I expected to find my friend Brendon here," said Leonard, thinking how beautiful she looked. "No! Mr. Brendon is very busy at the present time with his book. He would have come otherwise." "All things should give way where a lady is concerned," said Train, gallantly. Miss Ward laughed. She had heard much of Train from Brendon, and thought him a kindly, but foolish young man. "I am not a woman of that sort, Mr. Train. I have no desire that a man should neglect his work for frivolity. You are a great friend of Mr. Brendon?" "The greatest he has." "And he was stopping with you in the house where that tragedy took place. He told me about it." Train secretly wished that George had held his tongue on this particular point, as he had his own reasons for not wishing to be questioned. With the very best intentions as to holding his tongue, he knew his weakness for babbling well enough, and found it easier to abstain from talking altogether than to be temperate in speech. "Brendon certainly stopped with me," he said reservedly, "but we were sound asleep when the murder took place. Neither of us heard anything. After the inquest we both returned to the West End." "It was a most unpleasant experience," said Dorothy, thoughtfully. "Very," assented Train, wiping his face. "I shall never go in search of types again."