"I have not told her directly," said Diana, with some bluntness, "but as she is no fool, I fancy she suspects.
Why do you ask?"
"Because I have something to tell you which I do not wish your friend to hear, unless," added Lucian significantly, "you desire to take her into our confidence."
"No," said Diana promptly. "I do not think it is wise to take her into our confidence.
She is rather—well, to put it plainly, Mr. Denzil—rather a gossip."
"H'm! As such, do you consider her evidence reliable?"
"We can pick the grains of wheat out of the chaff.
No doubt she exaggerates and garbles, after the fashion of a scandal-loving woman, but her evidence is valuable, especially as showing that Lydia was not at Bath on Christmas Eve.
We will tell her nothing, so she can suspect as much as she likes; if we do speak freely she will spread the gossip, and if we don't, she will invent worse facts; so in either case it doesn't matter.
What is it you have to tell me?"
Lucian could scarcely forbear smiling at Diana's candidly expressed estimate of her ally's character, but, fearful of giving offence to his companion, he speedily composed his features.
With much explanation and an exhibition of Miss Greeb's plan, he gave an account of his discoveries, beginning with his visit to the cellar, and ending with the important conversation with his landlady.
Diana listened attentively, and when he concluded gave it as her opinion that Lydia had entered the first yard by the side passage and had climbed over the fence into the second, "as is clearly proved by the veil," she concluded decisively.
"But why should she take all that trouble, and run the risk of being seen, when it is plain that your father expected her?"
"Expected her!" cried Diana, thunderstruck. "Impossible!"
"I don't know so much about that," replied Lucian drily, "although I admit that on the face of it my assertion appears improbable. But when I met your father the second time, he was so anxious to prove, by letting me examine the house, that no one had entered it during his absence, that I am certain he was well aware the shadows I saw were those of people he knew were in the room.
Now, if the woman was Mrs. Vrain, she must have been in the habit of visiting your father by the back way."
"And Ferruci also?"
"I am not sure if the male shadow was Ferruci, no more than I am certain the other was Mrs. Vrain."
"But the veil?"
Lucian shrugged his shoulders in despair.
"That seems to prove it was she," he said dubiously, "but I can't explain your father's conduct in receiving her in so secretive a way.
The whole thing is beyond me."
"Well, what is to be done?" said Diana, after a pause, during which they looked blankly at one another.
"I must think.
My head is too confused just now with this conflicting evidence to plan any line of action. As a relief, let us examine your friend and hear what she has to say."
Diana assented, and touched the bell.
Shortly, Miss Tyler appeared, ushered in by a nervous waiter, to whom it would seem she had addressed a sharp admonition on his want of deference.
Immediately on entering she pounced down on Miss Vrain like a hawk on a dove, pecked her on both cheeks, addressed her as "my dearest Di," and finally permitted herself, with downcast eyes and a modest demeanour, to be introduced to Lucian.
It might be inferred from the foregoing description that Miss Tyler was a young and ardent damsel in her teens; whereas she was considerably nearer forty than thirty, and possessed an uncomely aspect unpleasing to male eyes.
Her own were of a cold grey, her lips were thin, her waist pinched in, and—as the natural consequence of tight lacing—her nose was red.
Her scanty hair was drawn off her high forehead very tightly, and screwed into a cast-iron knob at the nape of her long neck; and she smiled occasionally in an acid manner, with many teeth.
She wore a plainly-made green dress, with a toby frill; and a large silver cross dangled on her flat bosom.
Altogether, she was about as venomous a specimen of an unappropriated blessing as can well be imagined.
"Bella," said Miss Vrain to this unattractive female, "for certain reasons, which I may tell you hereafter, Mr. Denzil wishes to know if Mrs. Vrain was at Berwin Manor on Christmas Eve."
"Of course she was not, dearest Di," said Bella, drooping her elderly head on one scraggy shoulder, with an acid smile. "Didn't I tell you so?
I was asked by Lydia—alas!
I wish I could say my dearest Lydia—to spend Christmas at Berwin Manor.
She invited me for my singing and playing, you know: and as we all have to make ourselves agreeable, I came to see her.
On the day before Christmas she received a letter by the early post which seemed to upset her a great deal, and told me she would have to run up to town on business.
She did, and stayed all night, and came down next morning to keep Christmas.
I thought it very strange."
"What was her business in town, Miss Tyler?" asked Lucian.
"Oh, she didn't tell me," said Bella, tossing her head, "at least not directly, but I gathered from what she said that something was wrong with poor dear Mr. Clyne—her father, you know, dearest Di."
"Was the letter from him?"
"Oh, I couldn't say that, Mr. Denzil, as I don't know, and I never speak by hearsay.
So much mischief is done in the world by people repeating idle tales of which they are not sure."
"Was Count Ferruci at Berwin Manor at the time?"
"Oh, dear me, no, Di!
I told you that he was up in London the whole of Christmas week.