"I quite believe that, as it has to do with this murder."
"You dare to accuse me of that?" gasped Lydia, jumping up.
Torry shrugged his shoulders. "No," he said coolly, "I don't think you killed the man yourself; but you know who did."
"It is a lie," said the governess in a passionate voice, and sat down again.
"It is the truth," said Donna Maria gravely, and when Lydia turned an amazed face towards her she repeated solemnly: "It is the truth."
"Oh, oh," chuckled the detective, rubbing his hands at the idea of a quarrel between the two women, "now we shall hear something amusing."
At first Lydia could not believe that her friend was in earnest, and stammered out something about not understanding. To this Maria made a prompt and sharp reply.
"You understand well enough. My aunt complained of your conduct with Mr. Grent. I did not believe that you would behave so with a married man old enough to be your father. It was to show that I believed in your innocence that I asked you down here. My aunt objected to the invitation, but I insisted upon its being sent. You accepted; you came; you are here."
"Here, to save you trouble," cried Lydia venomously. "You would not have asked me had it not been to get something out of me."
"You judge me by yourself," said Donna Sandoval coldly. "I asked you here to reconcile you, if possible, with my aunt, but she refuses to be reconciled, as she believes that you let Mr. Grent make love to you."