peak to me, please. I wish to use my eyes rather than my
tongue."

Denzil, both as a lover and a friend, respected this emotion of the poor
young lady, so natural under the circumstances; and in silence conducted
her from room to room. All were empty and still dusty, for Mrs. Kebby's
broom swept sufficiently light, and the footfalls of the pair echoed
hollowly in the vast spaces.

Diana looked into every corner, examined every fireplace, attempted
every window, but in no place could she find any extraneous object
likely to afford a clue to the crime. They went down into the basement
and explored the kitchen, the servant's parlour, the scullery, and the
pantry, but with the same unsatisfactory result. The kitchen door, which
led out into the back yard, showed signs of having been lately opened;
but when Diana drew Lucian's attention to this fact, as the murderer
having possibly entered thereby, he assured her that it had only lately
been opened by the detective, Link, when he was searching for clues.

"I saw this door," added Lucian, striking it with his cane, "a week
before your father was killed. He showed it to me himself, to prove that
no one could have entered the house during his absence; and I was
satisfied then, from the rusty condition of the bolts, and the absence
of the key in the lock, that the door had not been opened--at all
events, during his tenancy."

"Then how could those who killed him have entered?"

"That is what I wish to learn, Miss Vrain. But why do you speak in the
plural?"

"Because I believe that Lydia and Ferruci killed my father."

"But I have proved to you that Mrs. Vrain remained at Bath."

"I know it," replied Diana quickly, "but she sent Ferruci up to kill my
father, and I speak in the plural because I think--in a moral sense--she
is as guilty as the Italian."

"That may be, Miss Vrain, but as yet we have not proved their guilt."

Diana made no answer, but, followed by Lucian, ascended to the upper
part of the house, where they found Mrs. Kebby sweeping so vigorously
that she had raised a kind of dust storm. As soon as she saw the couple
she hobbled towards them to cajole them, if possible, into giving her
money.

For a few moments Diana looked at her haughtily, not relishing the
familiarity of the old dame, but unexpectedly she stepped forward with a
look of excitement.

"Where did you get that ribbon?" she asked Mrs Kebby, pointing to a
scrap of personal adornment on the