“And this is really a fact?” Ravenspur cried. “Strange that it should not have come out before.”
“But why should it, my dear uncle? You say that you never saw Count Flavio’s wife. You have not the slightest idea what she was like. All you know is that she was an exceedingly bad woman, and that you rescued her child from a questionable future. On the other hand, Maria Delahay is secluded from the world for eighteen years. She is told by her parents that her sister is dead. She knows nothing of the terrible Flavio scandal. This is a fact, because she told me so herself. Indeed, we had it all out. She has to come back to the world again when her parents die. She is compelled to get her own living. It is only natural that she should change her name, and there you are.”
Lord Ravenspur pondered over the matter for some time in silence.
“You saw a great deal more of the Delahays than I did,” he said. “Practically I have not seen them together at all. Now how do they strike you? I mean, before their marriage, did you think that the woman really cared anything for our poor friend?”
“I am sure she did,” Walter said emphatically. “Of course, there was no passionate attachment between them; they were too old for that. But I am quite certain that Maria Delahay’s affection was sincere enough. After what I have seen the last day or two, I decline to believe that she had anything to do with her husband’s death. I believed her when she said she never saw him from the time she left the hotel till she found him dead in the studio.”
“And that opens up another theory,” Ravenspur exclaimed. “If it wasn’t Maria Delahay the witness Stevens saw that night in Fitzjohn Square, then it must have been her sister Carlotta.”
“My word, that never occurred to me!” Walter cried. “And yet the solution is as simple as it is probable. I wonder if it is possible to obtain a photograph of the Countess?”
“There were plenty of them published at the time of the trial,” Ravenspur said. “Of course, I mean in the illustrated papers. I have got the whole of them somewhere upstairs. Not that I pay much attention to newspaper photographs, as they are rarely any use. I’ll go and see if I can find one.”
Ravenspur turned hurriedly and left the room. He was gone some considerable time, leaving Walter to stand there and ponder over the result of his night’s adventure. The more he thought the matter over, the more complicated it became. He put the thing away from him almost petulantly. He was suddenly conscious of the fact that the music in the drawing-room was very soft and soothing. Then it flashed across him that Vera had something to say. Ravenspur might be a little time longer, and there was no opportunity like the present.
Only a portion of the drawing-room lights were on, together with the piano candles, and Vera sat there half in the shadow, a pathetic looking figure enough, in her white dress. As Walter approached he could see that her face was very pale, and that her eyes showed signs of recent tears.
“What is the matter?” he asked. “What fresh trouble is this?”
Vera’s hands fell away from the keys. She rose from her seat.
“It is not altogether a fresh trouble,” she murmured; “it is only the old one become more acute. Do you remember my telling you the other day that I felt how impossible it is for me to remain here any longer? But I must go away.”
“My dearest girl, why?” Walter asked. “You know perfectly well how much I care for you. You know perfectly well that you could not look me in the face and declare that you do not love me as well as I love you. Now, could you?”
“That is what makes it all the harder,” Vera whispered. “Oh, I am not going to prevaricate about it. We have always been good friends, Walter, and in the last few months I have realised that friendship has given way to a more tender attachment. Perhaps it was that which opened my eyes. Perhaps it was that that made me ask myself some questions. I felt quite sure that Lord Ravenspur had guessed nothing of our secret. In fact, it was a secret to me till one afternoon in this very room. …”
“I am not likely to forget,” Walter said tenderly.
“Well, then, you see I began to think. No father could have been kinder to me than Lord Ravenspur. I owe him a debt that I can never repay. But, though he has taken me into his house, and brought me up as if I belonged to his own flesh and blood, it does not follow that he considers me good enough for his nephew, the future holder of the title. And when he did find out not long ago, I saw at once what a dreadful disappointment it was to him.”
“I am afraid it was,” Walter said grudgingly. “But he did not set his face against it when I placed the thing before him in a proper light. He merely stipulated that our engagement must be a secret between us for the present. I am sure he is much too just a man, much too kindhearted to spoil our happiness. You are too sensitive, Vera; your sense of honour is too high.”
The girl’s lips quivered piteously.
“Perhaps I am,” she whispered. “But there is another thing which I have learned
