"You are a sharp one, you are!" said Rhoda, with an approving nod. "Look here, Mr. Denzil, would you break a promise?"
"That depends upon what the promise was."
"It was one I made to hold my tongue."
"About what?"
"Several things," said the girl shortly.
"Have they to do with this crime?" asked Lucian eagerly.
"I don't know. I can't say," said Rhoda; then suddenly her face grew black. "I tell you what, sir, I hate Mr. Wrent!" she declared.
"Oh, Rhoda!" cried Mrs. Bensusan. "After the lovely cloak he gave you!"
The red-haired girl looked contemptuously at her mistress; then, without a word, darted out of the room. Before Lucian could conjecture the reason of her strange conduct, or Mrs. Bensusan could get her breath again—a very difficult operation for her—Rhoda was back with a blue cloth cloak, lined with rabbit skins, hanging over her arm. This she threw down at the feet of Lucian, and stamped on it savagely with the carpet slippers.