"Yes. But I cannot understand how you came to know that Mrs. Jersey was Eliza Stokes."
"That's my business," flashed out Mrs. Ward. "Or why," pursued Derrington, unmoved, "why you sent her the yellow holly?"
"Because I was not quite positive if she really was Eliza Stokes. I thought that the yellow holly, being connected in her mind with the death of Mr. Vane, would make her betray herself."
"It did in a way--but to Brendon. He would not have told you."
"He would doubtless have told Dorothy, and she would have told me."
Ireland, in his thoughtful, ponderous way, turned this matter over in his own mind. "Where is your sister now?" he asked.
Mrs. Ward replied with some reserve. "I can't tell you that. She went out of her mind for a time after the murder of Mr. Vane, and after she came out of the asylum we were all afraid to live with her. My father put her under some one's charge, and when he died she was allowed an annuity. Her guardian died and my sister vanished. We made no attempt to find her, and it was supposed that she had put an end to herself."
Ireland looked at Derrington. "Did you ever meet Miss Jenny Howard, my lord?" he asked.
"No," said Derrington, "but I have known Mrs. Ward for many, many years."
"Quite twenty," said Mrs. Ward, with an artificial laugh. "We grow old. No, Mr. Ireland, Lord Derrington never met my sister. Why you ask I cannot conceive!"