"I'd better go through the whole history," said Eugénie slowly. "I received it from you."
"Exactly," interrupted Caprice, raising herself on her elbow; "and I got it from Mortimer. Who gave it to him?"
"Mr. Malton, for a gambling debt."
"Malton," repeated Kitty vivaciously. "Why, is he--did they--"
"Suspect him of the murder. No; because he says he got the note from Ezra Lazarus, and he cannot tell from whom he received it."
Kitty was wide awake by this time, and sitting up in bed, pushed the fair curls off her forehead.
"But, my dear," she said rapidly, "surely they don't suspect that poor young man of murdering his father?"
"Not exactly suspect him," observed Eugénie; "but, you see, Mr. Lazarus cannot account for the possession of that particular note, so that makes things look bad against him."
"I don't see why," said Caprice impatiently. "I'm sure I couldn't account for every individual five-pound note I receive--it's absurd;--is that all the case they have against him?"
"I think so; but Mr. Naball says--"