briskly to Helena's house, hoping that she would be able to throw some
light on it.

He greeted her with his usual warmth, and then, when he came to look at
her at his leisure, it was plain to him that the murder had been a much
greater shock to her than he had expected. He was surprised at it, for
she had assured him that she had never been really in love with Lord
Loudwater, and he had believed her. But there was no doubt that she had
been greatly upset by the news of his death. Her high colouring was
dimmed; she wore a harassed air, and she was uncommonly nervous and ill
at ease. He thought it strange that she should be so deeply affected by
the death of a man she had such good reason to detest. But, of course,
there was no telling how a woman would take anything; Lady Loudwater's
distress had fallen as far short of what he had expected as Helena's had
exceeded it.

To Mr. Manley's credit it must be admitted that in less than twenty
minutes Helena Truslove was looking another creature; her face had
recovered all its colour; the harassed air had vanished from it, and she
was sitting on his knee in a condition of the most pleasant repose. It
was his theory that a woman was never too ill, or too ill at ease, or too
unhappy to be made love to. He had acted on it.

When he had thus restored her peace of mind, he told her that Mr. Flexen
had asked him whether the late Lord Loudwater had been mixed up with any
lady in the neighbourhood, and asked her if she could suggest any reason
for his having asked the question. She appeared greatly startled to hear
of it. But she could not suggest any reason for his having asked the
question. He then asked her about the manner in which the allowance had
been paid to her, and was pleased to learn that there was little