"It was murder," she continued, "if you wish to hear the plain English of it."
"Was there a trial?"
"No. That has to come. Certain"—she seemed to hesitate—"proofs are being waited for. Poor Mrs. Chandos has not been quite right since: when the moon is at the change and full they think her worse; but at all times it is well that she should be under surveillance. That is why I am here."
I did not speak; I was thinking. No doubt it was all true.
"Poor thing! the blow was enough to turn her brain," observed Mrs. Penn, musingly. "But I fancy she could never have been of strong intellect. A light, frivolous, butterfly girl, her only recommendation her beauty and soft manner."
"What you told me before was, that she had used Mr. Chandos ill."
"And so she did; very. But that was altogether a different matter, quite unconnected with what followed."
"How did you become acquainted with these things, Mrs. Penn?"
"In a perfectly legitimate manner. Believe me, Anne, this house is no proper home for you; Harry Chandos is an unfit companion. Quit both to-morrow."
The pertinacity vexed me nearly beyond bearing. "I'll think of it," I said, sharply; and getting up quickly made my escape from the room and the east wing.