"So far as I can judge, it is," muttered Giles reluctantly.
"Well, then," went on Steel triumphantly, while the Princess—as Giles observed—listened intently, "I looked after that yacht.
I could not find her, but I am looking for her now.
That is why I am in the country.
I came up this morning from Deal, and I go back there to-morrow.
I find, sir, that this yacht puts in at various places every now and then."
"Most yachts do."
"Yes, sir.
But while most yachts are at anchor in a place does a burglary invariably occur?
No, sir, wait," for Giles had sprung to his feet. "Lady Summersdale's place was on the seashore.
Her diamonds were stolen.
At the time this yacht was at anchor in the bay.
A red cross was found in the safe.
The boat is called by that name.
Several times I find that when the yacht has been at a certain place a burglary has occurred.
This man Wilson wears a red cross on his watch-chain.
Now, sir, I believe that he is one of a gang of burglars—that the cross is a sign.
This explains his interest in the Society papers.
He wants to find out where the best swag is to be found, and——"
"But what has all this to do with my friend Anne?" cried the Princess.
Steel shrugged his shoulders.
"I say nothing," he replied. "You can draw your own inferences."
"Do you mean to say that Miss Denham——"
"I say nothing," interrupted Steel, catching up his hat. "Mr. Ware, I am at your service when you want me.
Princess!" He bowed and went out.
As the outer door closed Giles and his hostess looked at one another.
"The man's a foul liar," burst out Giles furiously.
"Yes." The woman was very pale. "Still, my friend Anne once told me——"
"Told you what?"
"What I will tell you if you come again," she said under her breath, and suddenly left the room.
She did not return. _____
CHAPTER XII
MRS. PARRY'S TEA
Six months had passed away since the death of Daisy.
The grass was now green above her grave.
Where she had fallen there had she been buried beside her father, and the villagers often talked of the tragedy, and pointed out to strangers the spot where it had taken place.
But she who had killed the girl—they still considered Anne guilty—had never been brought to justice.
From the day she had fled on Ware's motor-car nothing had been heard of her.
No one troubled about the dead girl.
Daisy had not been very popular during her life, and now that she was gone her name was scarcely mentioned.
For a time Mrs. Morley had placed flowers on the green mound, but after her return from Brighton had desisted. The grass grew long, and the path beside the grave green.
A tombstone of white marble had been erected by Giles, and already that was becoming discolored.
Daisy and her resting-place were forgotten. The poor child might have been dead a hundred years instead of six months.
Only the tale of her death remained as a fireside legend, to be amplified and improved upon as the years went by.
After that one sensation life went on in Rickwell very much as it had always done.
Morley and his wife returned to The Elms, and instead of having a new governess the triplets went to school.
Mrs. Morley never spoke of Anne or Daisy, and seemed to grow no more cheerful than before even in the perfect summer weather.
She still looked pale and subdued, and her eyes still had in their watery depths an anxious expression.
Everyone said that she was regretting the death of Daisy and the wickedness of Anne; but others remarked that she had looked just as haggard and worn before as after the tragedy.
Mrs. Parry gave it as her opinion that the poor lady had a secret sorrow, and tried by skilful questioning to learn what it was.