"Your wife?" interrupted Ralph, suddenly. "How could you think it was your wife who was dead when she--as you thought, I presume--had just dismissed you from the still-room."
"I did not think that the dead woman was my wife," said Eddy, sullenly. "I knew that there was a resemblance between my wife and Lady Branwin, as Flora had long since told me that they were twins. But I saw the birthmark on my wife's face, comparatively faint as it was."
"Then you knew all the time that Lady Branwin was masquerading as Madame Coralie?" demanded Perry Toat, much mortified, for she saw that this foolish, effeminate little creature had tricked her.
"Yes, because she threatened to say that I had killed Flora."
"And because I gave you my diamonds," retorted Lady Branwin.
"You went half shares," snapped Eddy, crossly. "I didn't make half as much out of the business as I expected. I held my tongue and allowed my wife to be buried as you, because I knew that by putting back the still-room clock I laid myself open to having committed the crime. But I am perfectly innocent, and you know it."
"Permit me to speak," said Lady Branwin, in harsh, hard tones, which recalled more than ever her assumption of her sister's character. "I intend to explain everything and to clear up the mystery."
"Do you wish me to go?" asked Colonel Ilse, rising. "As you are not Mrs. Askew, and cannot tell me where my child is, I don't want to stay."
"I think you had better stay," said Lady Branwin, without wincing. "I told you before that I have much to say. I am tired of myself and tired of my life. I was unhappy as the wife of Sir Joseph, who always treated me in a most brutal fashion, and I am still more unhappy masquerading as my sister. I have to put up with the blackmailing and insolence of this beast." And Lady Branwin pointed an accusing finger at Eddy, who shrank in his chair.
"You had better take care," he threatened, looking white-faced and cowardly, "for although I have told much, I can tell more."