es, and discourage him in
prosecuting what seemed to be a fruitless quest.

Denzil was anxious, as Diana's knight, to do as much of the work as
possible in order to gain the reward of her smiles. It is true that he
had no legal authority to make these inquiries, and it was possible that
Mrs. Bensusan might refuse to answer questions concerning her own
business, unsanctioned by law; but on recalling the description of Miss
Greeb, Lucian fancied that Mrs. Bensusan, as a fat woman, might only be
good-natured and timid.

He therefore dismissed all ideas of asking Link to intervene, and
resolved to risk a personal interview with the tenant of the Jersey
Street house. It would be time enough to invite Link's assistance, he
thought, when Mrs. Bensusan--as yet an unknown quantity in the
case--proved obstinate in replying to his questions.

Mrs. Bensusan proved to be quite as stout as Miss Greeb had reported. A
gigantically fat woman, she made up in breadth what she lacked in
length. Yet she seemed to have some activity about her, too, for she
opened the door personally to Lucian, who was quite amazed when he
beheld her monstrous bulk blocking up the doorway. Her face was white
and round like a pale moon; she had staring eyes of a china blue,
resembling the vacant optics of a wax doll; and, on the whole, appeared
to be a timid, lymphatic woman, likely to answer any questions put to
her in a sufficiently peremptory tone. Lucian foresaw that he was not
likely to have much trouble with this mountain of flesh.

"What might you be pleased to want, sir?" she asked Lucian, in the
meekest of voices. "Is it about the lodgings?"

"Yes," answered the barrister boldly, for he guessed that Mrs. Bensusan
would scuttle back into the house like a rabbit to its burrow, did he
speak too plainly at the outset, "that is--I wish to inquire about a
friend of mine."

"Did he lodge here, sir?"

"Yes. A Mr. Wrent."

"Deary me!" said the fat woman, with mild surprise. "Mr. Wrent left me
shortly after Christmas. A kind gentleman, but timid; he----"

"Excuse me," interrupted Lucian, who wanted to get into the house, "but
don't you think you could tell me about my friend in a more convenient
situation?"

"Oh, yes, sir--certainly, sir," wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, rolling back up
the narrow passage. "I beg your pardon, sir, for my forgetfulness, but
my head ain't what it ought to be. I'm a lone widow, sir, and not over
strong."

Denzil could have l