"Yes, over this case. I really think"--Shawe passed his hand across his forehead--"that it would be best to leave it alone. Audrey"--he took her hands and looked entreatingly into her face--"why not let sleeping dogs lie?"
She shook her head. "I must learn who killed my mother. Aunt Flora--that is, Madame Coralie--will help me. Why do you wish things to be left alone?"
"Because the wording of that anonymous letter haunts me," said Shawe, irritably. "If you search into this matter you will experience some very great grief. Is it worth risking that?"
"For the sake of my mother's memory it is," said the girl, firmly.
"My darling, I assure you that your mother will rest no more quietly in her grave because her assassin is hanged. Why not abandon the whole business and marry me at once? I have not much money, it is true, but what I have is enough for both of us to live quietly."
"No, no, no!" said Audrey, insistently. "We discussed this matter before, and I told you that I would not drag you down and hinder your career by saddling you with a poor wife; and if I marry against my father's wishes I am bound to be poor. Besides, I have sworn to myself never to rest until the murderer of my poor mother is brought to justice. If you won't help me--and you certainly do not seem anxious to do so--I must work alone."
"Of course I shall help you," snapped the barrister, sharply. "I want to get at the truth as speedily as possible, so that we may be married. And to aid you in your search I now make a suggestion."
Audrey looked at him with interest. "What is it?"
"You say that your father admired Madame Coralie when she was Flora Arkwright of Bleakleigh. Very good! Flora Arkwright may have admired your father, and may have grudged him marrying your mother. Now, why not go to Madame Coralie straight away and rouse her jealousy?"
"Rouse her jealousy?"