"Only that she is Cynthia's cousin," she returned uncertainly, "and that she has been staying down here on and off all through the spring. She—she's rather fond of Ross, I believe, Mr. Deland—though for mercy's sake don't whisper it aloud! We call her 'La Gioconda,' you know. She's so odd and inscrutable."
"Exactly. I nicknamed her that myself. And I'll tell you another secret, too. She brought me this morning the stiletto which so obviously stabbed your father. She says she found it sticking in the curtains. Have you ever discovered that the young lady lies, Miss Duggan?"
She gave a quick, uneasy laugh, and shrugged her shoulders.
"Ross always says he wouldn't trust her on sight," she paraphrased, with a nervous gesture. "We've tripped her up—on purpose—lots of times, you know, as girls do to one another. But to men, it seems a mean trick, I expect, Mr. Deland. Only, she elaborates so frightfully, you know. About her family and their money, and all the rest of it. And that's such frightfully bad form. If people really 'belong,' they don't have to advertise the fact, do they? And Catherine advertises it rather too much. But I don't know anything actually against her."
"Thanks. And what of this Johanna McCall? Where did she originally come from? Do you know?"
Her face softened visibly. You could see that Miss McCall held a warm place in her heart.
"Yes. I can tell you at once. Her foster-father used to be a bailiff of my father's in the good old days when money wasn't so hard to get, and even land seemed to yield a richer harvest. The old man died at his work, and as he was a widower, with this little adopted daughter living with him, he begged Father to see that she came to no harm. And Father promised. And when she grew old enough, he gave her work in the house. Sort of secretary—Mother's help, you know. But when he remarried, Paula changed all that, and took her for her own sort of companion-lady's-maid. I believe she would have left us before now, after the treatment she has had, if it hadn't been for Father being her guardian, so to speak. But none of us can ever forgive Paula for the way she has treated her. It's disgraceful."
"And yet your father never complained?"
"My father never saw. But the girl has been made a pack-horse from the minute Paula set her foot in this house. She seemed to have marked her down for her own, and Johanna has had to suffer in consequence. Such a nice little thing, too! It's common knowledge that she is engaged to Mr. Tavish—though we've heard nothing definitely. But it will be an excellent match. More in her own station of life; and they're both such dears.... Anything else, Mr. Deland?"