"None at all; do impress that upon her, Sir Edmund. We have nothing to
begin upon. The officer who sent the paper to headquarters is dead; Sir
David's own servant is dead; Sir David's will in favour of Madame
Danterre has been published without even a protest."

"Lady Rose will not be inclined to raise the question."

"No, I believe that is true," said the lawyer; "Lady Rose Bright is a
wise woman."

But Mr. Murray was annoyed to find that Edmund Grosse was far less wise,
and that whatever he might promise to say to Rose he would not really be
content to leave things alone. He intended to go to Florence and to get
into touch with Madame Danterre. Such interference could do no good, and
it might do harm.

"I won't alarm her," said Edmund, "believe me, she will have no reason
to suppose that I am in Florence on her account. I am, in any case,
going to the Italian lakes this autumn, and I have often been offered
the loan of a flat overlooking the Arno. If the offer is still open I
shall accept it. I have long wished to know that fascinating town a
little better."

When Rose received the letter from Edmund it had the effect he had
expected. It was simply calming, not exciting. Rose was even more
anxious than the lawyer that nothing should be attempted in order to
follow up her cousin's suggestion. But she could now let her imagination
be comforted by Edmund's solution of the mystery, and let her fancy rest
in the thought of a very different letter intended for herself. The
words on that scrap of paper no longer burnt with such agony into her