"And Mrs. Penn is certainly exempted," he rejoined. "For she has been meddled with in an equal degree with any of us."
"That leaves only me!"
"Just so; only you. But Anne," bending those earnest eyes upon me, "I would answer for you with my life."
"If it is not Lizzy Dene that is my enemy, who else can it be?" I exclaimed, foolishly speaking what was in my thoughts.
"Why should you think it to be Lizzy Dene more than any one else?" he hastily cried, in a resenting sort of tone. "She can have no cause of enmity against you."
There flashed across me that interview with Mr. Edwin Barley. If it was Lizzy Dene who had held it, who was in league with him, no need to search for a motive.
"That I have an enemy is indisputable. The letter you have just received and these sovereigns prove it."
"Anne, Lizzy Dene could not have written such a letter as this."
That he was prejudiced in favour of Lizzy Dene, determined to admit nothing against her, seemed evident; and I let the subject drop.
But now the strangest incident was to occur; an alarming incident; nay, it might rather be called a scene. In the minute's silence that had supervened, Mrs. Penn glided into the room without notice. The word "glided" is not inapplicable; she came softly in, scarcely seeming to move, her face scared, her voice sunk to a whisper.