“Do sit down, Miss Zizi,” the lady urged. “I’m pining for some one to talk to. Tell me now, do you think Letitia Prall is at the back of all this? Not of course, the actual criminal, but in any way implicated?”
The plump little blonde lady fluttered about and finally settled herself among some cushions on a couch and turned an inquisitive gaze on her visitor.
“What would be her motive?” Zizi parried. “To say she did it for young Bates’ sake sounds poppycock to me.”
“Me, too,” and Mrs Everett smiled. “If she did it, she had a deeper motive than that! A more disgraceful one.”
“Meaning?”
“Well?—not to put too fine a point upon it,—breach of promise!”
“Was there such a breach?”
“Oh, I’m not saying,—but Letitia certainly wanted to marry Sir Herbert——”
“Why, I thought he was your admirer——”
“Oh, well,” and the lady bridled, “I’m not saying anything about that—but if he did admire me, that doesn’t mean I smiled on him. I’m no husband hunter,—and poor Letitia is and always has been—without success, poor thing!”