Lydia shook her pretty head. "Not she. Mark was as respectable as the Pegall gang; there's no woman mixed up in this matter."
"But I saw the shadow of a woman on the blind of No. 13!"
"You don't say! In Mark's sitting-room? Well, I should smile to know he was human, after all. He was always so precious stiff!"
Something in Mrs. Vrain's light talk of her dead husband jarred on the feelings of Lucian, and in some displeasure he held his peace. In no wise abashed, Lydia feigned to take no notice of this tacit reproof, but chatted on about all and everything in the most frivolous manner. Not until they had entered the shop of Baxter & Co. did she resume attention to business.
"Here," she said to the smiling shopwalker, "I want to know by whom this cloak was sold, and to what person."
The man examined the cloak, and noted a private mark on it, which evidently afforded him some information not obtainable by the general public, for he guided Lucian and his companion to a counter behind which stood a brisk woman with sharp eyes. In her turn she also examined the cloak, and departed to refresh her memory by looking at some account book. When she returned it was to intimate that the cloak had been bought by a man.
"A man!" repeated Lucian, much astonished. "What was he like?"
"A dark man," replied the brisk shopwoman, "dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark moustache. I remember him well, because he was a foreigner."
"A foreigner?" repeated Lydia in her turn. "A Frenchman?"
"No, madam—an Italian. He told me as much."