ow his weak
points so well that she could twist him round her finger. But, angered
as I was at my father's folly, I loved him too well to leave him at the
time, therefore I returned to Berwin Manor with the pair.

"There, Mr. Denzil," continued Miss Vrain, her face growing dark, "Lydia
made my life so wretched, and insulted me so openly, that I was forced,
out of self-respect, to leave the house. I had some relatives in
Australia, to whom I went out on a visit. Alas! I wish I had not done
so; yet remain with my colonial cousins I did, until recalled to England
by the terrible intelligence of my father's untimely end."

"So the marriage was a failure?"

"Yes; even before I left, Lydia openly neglected my father. I am bound
to say that Mr. Clyne, who is much the better of the two, tried to make
her conduct herself in a more becoming manner. But she defied him and
every one else. After my departure I received letters from a friend of
mine, who told me that Lydia had invited Count Ferruci over on a visit.
My father, finding that he could do nothing, and seeing what a mistake
he had made, returned to his books, and soon became ill again. Instead
of looking after him, Lydia--as I heard--encouraged him to study hard,
hoping, no doubt, that he would die, and that she would be free to marry
Count Ferruci. Then my father left the house."

"Why? That is a very necessary detail."

Diana thought for a moment, then shook her head despondingly. "That I
cannot explain," she said, with a sigh, "as I was in Australia at the
time. But I expect that his brain grew weaker with study, and perhaps
with the strong drink and drugs which this woman drove him to take. No
doubt the poor man grew jealous of Ferruci; and, unable to assert
himself, seeing how ill he was, left the house and retired to Geneva
Square to meet his death, as we know."

"But all this is supposition," remonstrated Lucian. "We really do not
know why Mr. Vrain left the house."

"What does Lydia say?"

"She gives no feasible explanation."

"Nor will she. Oh!" cried Diana, "is there no way of getting at the
truth of this matter? I feel certain that Lydia and the Count are
guilty!"

"You have no proofs," said Denzil, shaking his head.

"No proofs! Why, you said yourself that a stiletto----"

"That is a supposition on my part," interrupted Lucian quickly. "I
cannot say for certain that the deed was committed with such a weapon.
Besides, if it was, how can you connec