"Miss Tyler," interrupted Lucian sternly, "you must not speak so wildly, for as yet there is nothing to prove that Mrs. Vrain is guilty."
"She is guilty enough for me, Mr. Denzil; but like all men, I suppose you take her side, because she is supposed to be pretty. Pretty!" reflected Bella scornfully, "I never could see it myself; a painted up minx, dragged up from the gutter. I wonder at your taste, Mr. Denzil, indeed I do. Pretty, the idea! What fools men are! I'm glad I never married one! Indeed no! He! he!"
And with a shrill laugh to point this sour-grape sentiment, and mark her disdain for Lucian, the fair Bella took herself and her lean form out of the room.
Diana and the barrister were too deeply interested in their business to take much notice of Bella's hysterical outburst, but looked at one another gravely as she departed.
"Well, Mr. Denzil," said the former, repeating her earlier question, "what is to be done now? Shall we see Mrs. Vrain?"
"Not yet," replied Lucian quickly. "We must secure proofs of Mrs. Vrain's being in that yard before we can get any confession out of her. If you will leave it in my hands, Miss Vrain, I shall call on Mrs. Bensusan."
"Who is Mrs. Bensusan?"
"She is the tenant of the house in Jersey Street. It is possible that she or her servant may know something about the illegal use made of the right of way."
"Yes, I think that is the next step to take. But what am I to do in the meantime?"