"Very good," said Lucian, explaining just as much as would serve his purpose. "Then I may tell you, Miss Greeb, that I suspect the assassin of Mr. Vrain entered through Mrs. Bensusan's house, and so got into the yard of No. 13."
"Lord!" cried Miss Greeb, taken by surprise. "You don't say, sir, that Mr. Wrent is a murdering villain, steeped in gore?"
"No! No!" replied Lucian, smiling at this highly-coloured description. "Do not jump to conclusions, Miss Greeb.
So far as I am aware, this Mr. Wrent you speak of is innocent. Do you know Mrs. Bensusan and her house well?"
"I've visited both several times, Mr. Denzil."
"Well, then, tell me," continued the barrister, "is the house built with a full frontage like those in this square?
I mean, to gain Mrs. Bensusan's back yard is it necessary to go through Mrs. Bensusan's house?"
"No," replied Miss Greeb, shutting her eyes to conjure up the image of her friend's premises. "You can go round the back through the side passage which leads in from Jersey Road."
"H'm!" said Lucian in a dissatisfied tone. "That complicates matters."
"How so, sir?" demanded the curious landlady.
"Never mind just now, Miss Greeb.
Do you think you could draw me a plan of this passage of Mrs. Bensusan's house, and of No. 13, with the yards between?"
"I never could sketch," said Miss Greeb regretfully, "and I am no artist, Mr. Denzil, but I think I can do what you want."
"Here is a sheet of paper and a pencil.
Will you sketch me the houses as clearly as you can?"
With much reflection and nibbling of the pencil, and casting of her eyes up to the ceiling to aid her memory, Miss Greeb in ten minutes produced the required sketch.
"There you are, Mr. Denzil," said Miss Greeb, placing this work of art before the barrister, "that's as good as I can draw."
"It is excellent, Miss Greeb," replied Lucian, examining the plan. "I see that anyone can get into Mrs. Bensusan's yard through the side passage."
"Oh, yes; but I don't think a person could without being seen by Mrs. Bensusan or Rhoda."
"Who is Rhoda?"
"The servant.
She's as sharp as a needle, but an idle slut, for all that, Mr. Denzil.
They say she's a gypsy of some kind."
"Is the gate of this passage locked at night?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then what is to prevent any one coming in under cover of darkness and climbing the fence?
He would escape then being seen by the landlady and her servant."
"I daresay; but he'd be seen climbing over the fence from the back windows of the houses on each side of No. 13."
"Not if he chose a dark night for the climbing."
"Well, even if he did, how could he get into No. 13?" argued Miss Greeb. "You know I've read the report of the case, Mr. Denzil, and it couldn't be found out (as the kitchen door was locked, and no stranger entered the square) how the murdering assassin got in."
"I may discover even that," replied Lucian, not choosing to tell Miss Greeb that he had already discovered the entrance. "With time and inquiry and observation we can do much. Thank you, Miss Greeb," he continued, slipping the drawing of the plan into his breast coat pocket. "I am much obliged for your information.
Of course you'll repeat our conversation to no one?"
"I swear to breathe no word," said Miss Greeb dramatically, and left the room greatly pleased with this secret understanding, which had quite the air of an innocent intrigue such as was detailed in journals designed for the use of the family circle.
For the next day or two Lucian mused over the information he had obtained, and made a fresh drawing of the plan for his own satisfaction; but he took no steps on this new evidence, as he was anxious to submit his discoveries to Miss Vrain before doing so.
At the present time Diana was at Bath, taking possession of her ancestral acres, and consulting the family lawyer on various matters connected with the property.
Once she wrote to Lucian, advising him that she had heard several pieces of news likely to be useful in clearing up the mystery; but these she refused to communicate save at a personal interview.
Denzil was thus kept in suspense, and unable to rest until he knew precisely the value of Miss Vrain's newly acquired information; therefore it was with a feeling of relief that he received a note from her asking him to call at three o'clock on Sunday at the Royal John Hotel.
Since her going and coming a week had elapsed.
Now that his divinity had returned, and he was about to see her again, the sun shone once more in the heavens for Lucian, and he arrayed himself for his visit with the utmost care.
His heart beat violently and his colour rose as he was ushered into the little sitting-room, and he thought less of the case at the moment than of the joy in seeing Miss Vrain once more, in hearing her speak, and watching her lovely face.
On her part, Diana, recollecting their last meeting, or more particularly their parting, blushed in her turn, and gave her hand to the barrister with a new-born timidity.
She also was inclined to like Lucian more than was reasonable for the peace of her heart; so these two people, each drawn to the other, should have come together as lovers even at this second meeting.
But, alas! for the prosaicness of this workaday world, they had to assume the attitudes of lawyer and client; and discourse of crime instead of love.
The situation was a trifle ironical, and must have provoked the laughter of the gods.
"Well?" asked Miss Vrain, getting to business as soon as Lucian was seated, "and what have you found out?"
"A great deal likely to be of service to us.
And you?"
"I!" replied Miss Vrain in a satisfied tone. "I have discovered that the stiletto with the ribbon is gone from the library."
"Who took it away?"
"No one knows.