"What do you mean?" demanded Lesbia indignantly; but with a sinking heart.
"Mean," screamed the infuriated woman; "I mean that Bertha heard you calling the masked man who attacked you, 'Father!' And you cannot deny it. See, Charvington," she pointed tauntingly to the agonised girl, "she dare not deny it. Oh you--you daughter of a thief; you accomplice of a thief."
"Helen, Helen; be silent."
"I shall not be silent. When Bertha told me the truth I ordered her to hold her tongue until you returned, Charvington. I have held my peace myself and neither the police nor the servants nor our friends know that this horrid girl is the daughter of a thief. Why you take such an interest in the minx I don't know, but surely after what we have discovered you will pack her off to gaol."
"To gaol; to gaol," Lesbia drew herself up, pale, but fearless. As Lady Charvington hurled her accusations, the girl's spirit rose to defend herself. After all, guilty as her father might be, she at least was innocent. "How dare you speak to me in this way?" she said again.
"And how dare you face me, you cat?" snarled Lady Charvington, looking much more like a cat herself. "You arrange with your abominable father to rob me of my jewels, you enter my house to----"
Before Lord Charvington could put out his hand to stop her--for he was afraid to think what these two angry women might do--Lesbia glided past him, and stood face to face with her enemy. "You lie," she breathed in such a low, fierce voice that the other woman fell back into her chair with a gasp of fear. "I knew nothing of this. I had no wish to rob you of your jewels."
"Yes, you had, and I know why!"
"Explain then. I dare you to explain."
Lady Charvington cast a swift glance at her husband. "I know what I know."