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Lucian uttered a cry. "Mr. Vrain!" he said, shrinking back, "Mr. Vrain!" "Look again," said Link, passing his hand rapidly over the face and head of the prostrate man. Denzil did look, and uttered a second cry more startling than the first. Wig and beard and venerable looks were all gone, and he recognised at once who Wrent was. "Jabez Clyne! Jabez Clyne!" he exclaimed in astonishment.
"I don't know anything about it, except what Count Ferruci told me," said Lydia obstinately. "And he said that Vrain, as Wrent, killed Clear. But you can easily prove if it's true or not." "How can we prove it?" asked Diana coldly. "By laying a trap for Mark. You know at least Ercole told me, and I suppose Mrs.
When she thought herself unobserved, she stole swift glances at the visitor, trying evidently to read his character by observation of his face and manner. It would seem that her scrutiny was favourable, for before Mrs. Bensusan could answer Lucian's question she asked him one herself. "What do you want to know, sir?" "I want to know all about Mr. Wrent." "Why?"
The assassin is Wrent." "You have yet to prove that." "I?" said Lucian, with disdain. "I prove nothing. I wash my hands of the whole affair. You are a detective; let me see what you will make of a case which has baffled you twice!" and Denzil, with rage in his heart, went off, laughing at the discomfiture of Link. At that moment the detective hated his successful rival with his whole heart.
"What might you be pleased to want, sir?" she asked Lucian, in the meekest of voices. "Is it about the lodgings?" "Yes," answered the barrister boldly, for he guessed that Mrs. Bensusan would scuttle back into the house like a rabbit to its burrow, did he speak too plainly at the outset, "that is I wish to inquire about a friend of mine." "Did he lodge here, sir?" "Yes. A Mr. Wrent."
"I can't exactly swear to it," replied Rhoda, hesitating, "but it was this way: The lady wore a cloak like that, and I admired it awful. She had it on when she came, Christmas Eve, and she didn't wear it when I let her out, and the next day Mr. Wrent gave it to me. So I suppose it is the same cloak." "And did the lady go out into the cold winter weather without the cloak?"
"I can prove that you were in No. 13 of this Square, seeing your husband, for I found on the fence dividing the back yard of that house from one in Jersey Street a scrap of a veil such as you wear. Also the landlady and servant can prove that you called on Mr. Wrent several times, and were with him on the night of the murder.
I did not, and Wrent knows too much to risk himself at a time that he can be seen from the windows of the adjacent houses. No! no! The meeting with Mrs. Clear is to take place in the front room at ten o'clock, when it will be quite dark. You, I, and the policemen will hide in what was the bedroom, and listen to what Wrent has to say to Mrs. Clear.
Denzil, the gentleman who occupies Miss Greeb's first floor front." "Yes. And I have come to ask you a few questions." "About what, sir?" said Mrs. Bensusan, visibly alarmed. "Concerning Mr. Wrent." "You are a friend of his?" "I said so, Mrs. Bensusan, but as a matter of fact I never set eyes on the gentleman in my life." Mrs.
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