rtfully combined with falsehood that it was difficult to
disentangle one from the other.

Flossy listened with keen attention; it struck her at once that Mr.
Ferguson was blackening the girl's character out of spite.

"Do you know where she came from before your musician, Lalli, discovered
her, Mr. Ferguson?"

"No, I do not, madam. But I have followed her course with interest ever
since"--which was true.

"And do you know where she resided before he died?"

"No, madam--I really do not"--which was utterly false. "Perhaps I could
ascertain for you, and let you know."

Flossy thanked him and rose. She had not attained her object precisely;
but she had received information that might prove extremely valuable.
The manager bowed her out of his room politely, and called to one of his
subordinates to show her down-stairs.

This was a little mistake on Mr. Ferguson's part; he did not calculate
on his visitor's questioning his subordinate, who happened to be a young
man with a taste for the violin.

"Did you know a Mr. Lalli who was once in the orchestra here?" said
Flossy graciously.

"Oh, yes, ma'am! He was here for a very long time."

"Do you know where he used to live?"

"Yes, ma'am, No.--, Euston Road; it's a boarding-house, kept by a Mrs.
Wadsley. He died there."

Quite astonished by her own success, Flossy slipped a coin into his hand
and made him call her a hansom cab. She was beginning to think of speed
more than of the probability of being recognised in the London streets.

To Mrs. Wadsley's then in all haste. The dingily respectable air of the
house and of the proprietress herself at once impressed Mrs. Vane with
the idea that Mr. Ferguson had been largely drawing on his own
imagination with respect to Cynthia West. Nothing certainly could be
more idyllic than the story of Lalli's devotion to the girl, whom he had
brought home one night with an assurance to Mrs. Wadsley that she was
the daughter of an old friend, and that he would be responsible for the
payment of her board and lodging until she began to earn her own living.

"He was just like a father to her," said Mrs. Wadsley confidentially;
"and teach her he would, and scold her sometimes by the hour together. I
assure you, Mrs. Vane, it was wonderful to see the pains that he took
with her. I see in the papers that she has been singing at concerts
lately; and I said to my friend Mrs. Doldrum, 'How pleased poor dear old
Mr. Lalli would have been if