"About what?"
"Several things," said the girl shortly.
"Have they to do with this crime?" asked Lucian eagerly.
"I don't know.
I can't say," said Rhoda; then suddenly her face grew black. "I tell you what, sir, I hate Mr. Wrent!" she declared.
"Oh, Rhoda!" cried Mrs. Bensusan. "After the lovely cloak he gave you!"
The red-haired girl looked contemptuously at her mistress; then, without a word, darted out of the room.
Before Lucian could conjecture the reason of her strange conduct, or Mrs. Bensusan could get her breath again—a very difficult operation for her—Rhoda was back with a blue cloth cloak, lined with rabbit skins, hanging over her arm.
This she threw down at the feet of Lucian, and stamped on it savagely with the carpet slippers.
"There's his present!" she cried angrily, "but I wish I could dance on him the same way!
I wish—I wish I could hang him!"
"Can you?" demanded Lucian swiftly, taking her in the moment of wrath, when she seemed disposed to speak.
"No!" said Rhoda shortly. "I can't!"
"Do you think he killed Mr. Vrain?"
"No, I don't!"
"Do you know who did?"
"Blest if I do!"
"Does Mr. Wrent?" asked Denzil meaningly.
The girl wet her finger and went through a childish game.
"That's wet," she said; then wiping the finger on her dingy skirt, "that's dry. Cut my throat if I tell a lie. Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil."
"I don't understand you," said Lucian, quite puzzled.
"Rhoda!
Rhoda!
'Ave you gone crazy?" wailed Mrs. Bensusan.
"Look here," said the girl, taking no notice of her mistress, "do you want to know about Mr. Wrent?"
"Yes, I do."
"And about that side passage as you talked of to the missis?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll answer yer questions, sir. You'll know all I know."
"Very good," said Lucian, with an approving smile, "now you are talking like a sensible girl."
"Rhoda!
You ain't going to talk bad of Mr. Wrent?"
"It ain't bad, and it ain't good," replied Rhoda. "It's betwixt and between."
"Well, I must 'ear all. I don't want the character of the 'ouse took away," said Mrs. Bensusan, with an attempt at firmness.
"That's all right," rejoined Rhoda reassuringly, "you can jine in yerself when y' like.
Fire away, Mr. Denzil."
"Who is Mr. Wrent?" asked Lucian, going straight to the point.
"I don't know," replied Rhoda; and henceforth the examination proceeded as though the girl were in the witness-box and Lucian counsel for the prosecution.
Q. When did he come to Jersey Street?
A. At the end of July, last year.
Q. When did he go away?
A. The morning after Boxing Day.
Q. Can you describe his appearance?
A. He was of the middle height, with a fresh complexion, white hair, and a white beard growing all over his face.
He was untidy about his clothes, and kept a good deal to his own room among a lot of books.
I don't think he was quite right in his head.
Q. Did he pay his rent regularly?
A. Yes, except when he was away.
He would go away for a week at a time.
Q. Was he in this house on Christmas Eve?