Victoire made a sudden movement. At last she spoke.
'Lies!' she snapped out. 'All lies. Mademoiselle did nothing of the sort. 'Tis all nothing but lies and hatred. You have hated us all the time, you and you'—nodding from Mrs. Curnow to Marion. She fixed her beady eyes on Simone. 'You know as well as I know that yonder poor girl lying upstairs is Elise de Delauret, and you are a playmate of hers whom I brought over in the kindness of my heart. How could I help it if you strayed away in London? Did I not seek and seek——'
Colonel Sampson stepped forward. 'If I were you I should say nothing more.'
'Would you? But I've more to say. Who is there to believe what that upstart'—she pointed to Simone—'chooses to say? There is no one living but myself who knows who is Elise de Delauret. I have proof. Where is yours?'
'This is really very fine,' said Mistress Keziah, her eyes gleaming. 'But quite wasted. Curnow—take——'
'Your proof!' cried Victoire again. 'Her word against mine and Mademoiselle's upstairs.'
Colonel Sampson was fumbling in his pocket, and drew out a miniature portrait, a pretty thing, framed in pearls. He handed it to Mistress Keziah with a significant glance towards Simone, who, apparently unconcerned, but with a strained look growing on her face, was watching Victoire. Mistress Keziah looked from the face in the portrait to the face opposite her. Victoire darted forward and peered over the lady's shoulder. She caught a quick breath. Just as Victoire's hand clutched at the miniature Sampson cried out a word of warning. Mrs. Curnow swung her heavy weight on the woman and bore her aside.
'Take her out,' said Mistress Keziah to the housekeeper. 'Put her in a chamber by herself and have door and window guarded.'
'I'll put her in the kitchen, if it please you, Mistress,' said Mrs. Curnow grimly. 'There be plenty there glad and willing to watch what her does.'
Colonel Sampson opened the door and himself watched Victoire firmly escorted into the kitchen by Mrs. Curnow.