"I don't know."
"How mysterious you are--it is cruel of me to keep you trying to solve the riddle of my brother's death, when you ought to be making love to that young lady."
"That is just it," said Ronald, with a groan; "if your brother had not been killed, I would not have doubted her."
"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Taunton, breathlessly; "who is she?"
"Miss Cotoner."
"What! The sister of my brother's wife?"
"I don't know," he said, dreamily.
"You don't know--you don't know?" she said, with a quick, indrawn breath; "what parrot-cry is this--did she come from Malta?"
"Yes."
"Then she must be what I have said."