"It is very good of you," replied the lady gratefully, "For I have no
right to take up your time in this manner."

"You have every right--that is, I mean--I mean," stammered Denzil,
thinking from the surprised look of Miss Vrain that he had gone too far
at so early a stage of their acquaintance. "I mean that as a briefless
barrister I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be too happy
to place it and myself at your service. And moreover," he added in a
lighter tone, "I have some selfish interest in the matter, also, for it
is not every one who finds so difficult a riddle as this to solve. I
shall never rest easy in my mind until I unravel the whole of this
tangled skein."

"How good you are!" cried Diana, impulsively extending her hand. "It is
as impossible for me to thank you sufficiently now for your kindness as
it will be to reward you hereafter, should we succeed."

"As to my reward," said Lucian, retaining her hand longer than was
necessary, "we can decide what I merit when your father's death is
avenged."

Diana coloured and turned away her eyes, withdrawing her hand in the
meantime from the too warm clasp of the young man. A sense of his
meaning was suddenly borne in upon her by look and clasp, and she felt a
maidenly confusion at the momentary boldness of this undeclared lover.
However, with feminine tact she laughed off the hint, and shortly
afterwards took her leave, promising to communicate as speedily as
possible with Lucian regarding the circumstances of her visit to Bath.

The barrister wished to escort her back to the Royal John Hotel in
Kensington, but Miss Vrain, guessing his feelings, would not permit
this; so Lucian, hat in hand, was left standing in Geneva Square, while
his divinity drove off in a prosaic hansom. With her went the glory of
the sunlight, the sweetness of the spring; and Denzil, more in love than
ever, sighed hugely as he walked slowly back to his lodgings.

For doleful moods, hard work and other interests are the sole cure;
therefore, that same afternoon Lucian returned to explore the Silent
House on his own account. It had struck him as suggestive that the
parti-coloured ribbon to which Diana attached such importance should
have been found in so out-of-the-way a corner as the threshold of the
door which conducted to what Mrs. Kebby, with characteristic
misrepresentation, called the woodshed. In reality the place in
question was a cellar, which extended under the soil