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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Pardon me," interposed Lucian, finding his voice, "I hardly think so, Miss Vrain; for no one but yourself could have told that the ribbon adorned the stiletto. Where did you see the weapon last?" "In the library at Berwin Manor. I hung it up on the wall myself, by this ribbon." "Are you sure it is the same ribbon?" "I am certain," replied Diana emphatically.
"I don't mind being a grass-widow or a real one, so long as I know how to ticket myself," said the candid Lydia; "but seems to me there's no question that Mark's sent in his checks." "I certainly think that this man who called himself Berwin was your husband," said Denzil, for Mrs. Vrain's eyes rested on him, and she seemed to expect an answer. "Well, then, that means I'm Mr. Vrain's widow?"
"Ah! that's what every one says," sighed the grocer. "I wish that Berwin, or Vrain, or whatever he called himself, had chosen some other place to be killed in."
The old man's daughter by his first wife gets the manor and the rents, and I take the assurance money!" "Was Mr. Berwin I beg pardon, Vrain was he married twice?" "I should think so!" said Lydia. "He was a widower with a grown-up daughter when I took him to church. Well, can I get this assurance money?" "I suppose so," said Link, "provided you can prove your husband's death."
"But having shown Clyne the cellarway into the house, Miss Rhoda knew too much, and laughed in Clyne's face. He did not dare to make her thefts public, or complain to Mrs. Bensusan, lest Rhoda should tell of the connection between him and the tenant of the Silent House, who passed under the name of Berwin. Therefore, he told Clear to keep his sitting-room door locked."
"Where the deuce is No. 13? Not in this Cloudcuckooland, anyhow." "Oh!" cried Lucian, taking the man's arm. "Come with me. I'll lead you home, Mr. Berwin." Scarcely had the name passed his lips than the stranger drew back suddenly, with a hasty exclamation.
Oh, was there ever so unhappy a creature as I? False name, false friend, in disgrace, in hiding! Curse everybody! Go! go! Mr. Denzil, and leave me to die here like a rat in its hole!" "You are ill!" said Lucian, amazed by the man's fury. "Shall I send a doctor to see you?" "Send no one," cried Berwin, commanding himself by a visible effort. "Only go away and leave me to myself.
"I am content," said Lucian softly, "that you should think of me as your friend for the present." His meaning was so unmistakable that Diana, still blushing, and somewhat confused, hastened to prevent his saying more at so awkward a moment. "Then as my friend I hope you will come and see me at Berwin Manor." "I shall be delighted. When do you go down?" "Within a fortnight.
'Thou can'st not minister to a mind diseased. Go! go!" "Good-night, then," said Denzil, seeing that nothing could be done. "I hope you will be better in the morning." Berwin shook his head, and with a silent tongue, which contrasted strangely with his late outcry, ushered Denzil out of the house.
Also he was anxious to satisfy himself concerning the blind shadows, and curious to learn why Berwin inhabited so dismal and mysterious a mansion. Add to these reasons a keen pleasure in profiting by the occurrence of the unexpected, and you will guess that Denzil ended by accepting the strange invitation of Berwin.
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