"Yes, she leave," continued Mrs. Grent, when she recovered her speech. "I say: 'you go, or I go,' so she go. But I know she met my fool husband in this city."
"Ha!" exclaimed Torry, recollecting the visit of Lydia to the Duke-street rooms on the fatal Saturday.
"Yes, yes; and I swear she fly with him. He say: 'I go to Italy.' Oh, yes, I know that, but not alone; she go also. My husband meet her to fly. Then she see he too old and kill him by her lover."
"What--Mr. Blake?"
"No, no; she say she love him, but that one big lie. She love young Leighbourne."
"Impossible!" cried Torry, utterly taken aback.
"I tell you, yes. Blake think she love him; but no, she love Mister Leighbourne. Oh, yes, I swear it. You see that wretch and speak."
"Yes, I'll see her, madam; but whether she loved your husband, or loves Leighbourne or Blake, I'm sure she did not commit the murder."
"Ki! Ki Ki!" cried Donna Inez derisively, and took her leave.