“Naturally, or you wouldn’t ask,” La Planta replied quickly.

“I believe she is a friend of yours.”

“I believe she is. Do you mind telling me, Preston, the reason you need the information?”

“Not in the least. A friend of mine, Lord Froissart, whose daughter died suddenly over a year ago, tells me that his daughter was rather intimate with Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson, but knew nothing about her—​that is to say, who her parents were and so on. His daughter’s death has rather preyed upon his mind, and he seems to suffer under what I take to be a delusion that Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson could throw some light on the cause of death if she chose. Consequently he has been worrying a good deal about the lady, and, when I dined with him last night, he asked me as a particular favor—​I am an old friend of his—​if I would try to interview you on the subject, and ask you to tell me Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson’s past history, if you know it. I said I would, though it is not a task I greatly relish as I am sure you will understand.”

La Planta did not answer for some moments.

“Yes, Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson was a great friend of Vera Froissart,” he said at last, “and I don’t suppose any of Vera’s friends was more upset at her sudden death than Mrs. Robertson was. The astonishing delusion you speak of—​Froissart’s apparent belief that Mrs. Robertson has some knowledge or suspicion of what brought about the tragedy—​is, of course, the result of an unhinged mind. As for my telling you Mrs. Robertson’s private history, though I quite see how you are placed, I consider that to go into a family affair of that sort would, under existing conditions, be a breach of confidence on my part. Also, what bearing could such knowledge have on Mrs. Robertson’s knowing why Vera Froissart ended her life, as she undoubtedly did? Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson is a friend whose acquaintance I made some years ago under rather romantic circumstances, and to you I don’t mind saying that she has made me her rather close confidant. This I can tell you, however—​she is a woman who has from first to last met with many misfortunes, and been persistently misunderstood.”

For a minute both men were silent.

“And is that all you are prepared to tell me about her?” Preston said suddenly, in rather a hard voice.

“That is all.”

“In that case, La Planta,” Preston bent down to get his stick, “perhaps I had better go.”