herself. "And what of that, Mr. Troy?" she added, very quietly and
firmly.

Mr. Troy answered quietly and firmly, on his side. "I am surprised that
your Ladyship should ask the question," he said.

"I persist in repeating the question," Lady Lydiard rejoined. "I say
that Isabel Miller knew of the inclosure in my letter--and I ask, What
of that?"

"And I answer," retorted the impenetrable lawyer, "that the suspicion of
theft rests on your Ladyship's adopted daughter, and on nobody else."

"It's false!" cried Robert, with a burst of honest indignation. "I wish
to God I had never said a word to you about the loss of the bank-note!
Oh, my Lady! my Lady! don't let him distress you! What does _he_ know
about it?"

"Hush!" said Lady Lydiard. "Control yourself, and hear what he has to
say." She rested her hand on Moody's shoulder, partly to encourage
him, partly to support herself; and, fixing her eyes again on Mr. Troy,
repeated his last words, "'Suspicion rests on my adopted daughter, and
on nobody else.' Why on nobody else?"

"Is your Ladyship prepared to suspect the Rector of St. Anne's of
embezzlement, or your own relatives and equals of theft?" Mr. Troy
asked. "Does a shadow of doubt rest on the servants? Not if Mr. Moody's
evidence is to be believed. Who, to our own certain knowledge, had
access to the letter while it was unsealed? Who was alone in the room
with it? And who knew of the inclosure in it? I leave the answer to your