"That's not very likely, ma'am. You'd 'a' made a good detective, as I always did think--you're so sharp."

"And I don't look it, as you said before. Perhaps I will tell you to-morrow morning, Sabina. At present I am going to find out all that I can about Miss Cynthia West. You did not give me her address; give it to me now."

She wrote it down in a little pocket-book, and then rose to take her leave. Sabina, who followed her to the cab, heard her tell the man to drive to the box-office of the Frivolity Theatre.

It took Mrs. Vane three-quarters of an hour to reach the Frivolity. It was half-past three when she got there. She asked at once if it was possible to see the manager, Mr. Ferguson. A gold coin probably expedited her messenger and rendered her entrance to the great man possible; for Mrs. Vane was a very handsome and well-dressed woman, and the "important business" on which she sent word that she had come had possibly less influence on the manager's mind than the glowing account given by the man despatched from the box-office on her errand.

Flossy was lucky. Mr. Ferguson was in the building--a rather unusual fact; he was also willing to see her in his private room--another concession; and he received her with moderate civility--a variation from his usual manner, which Mrs. Vane must have owed to her own manner and appearance.

"I shall not detain you for more than a very few minutes, Mr. Ferguson,"

said Flossy, with the air of a duchess, as she accepted the chair which the manager offered her; "but I have a good reason for coming to you. I think that a young lady called Cynthia West was once acting at this theatre? To put my question in plain words--Do you know anything about her?"

The manager sneered a little.

"A good deal," he said. "Oh, yes--she was here! I don't know that I have anything to tell, however. I should think that Mr. Hubert Lepel, if you know him, could tell you more about her than any one."

"I happen to be Mr. Lepel's sister," said Flossy, with dignity.

"The deuce you are!" remarked the manager to himself. "That explains----" Aloud--"Well, madam, how can I assist you? Do you want to know Miss West's character? Well, that was--if I may use the word--notorious."

Flossy's eyes gleamed.

"So I expected to hear," she murmured. "I am afraid that my poor brother has some thought of--of marrying her."

"Oh, surely not!" said Mr. Ferguson. "Surely he wouldn't be such a fool!"

"Can you tell me anything definite about her?"

"Excuse me, madam, for asking; but you--naturally--wish to prevent the marriage, if possible?"

"I certainly do not wish my brother to ruin himself for life, as he would do if she were such a--such a person as you imply." Mrs. Vane's lips were evidently much too delicate to say in plain terms what she meant. "If she were as respectable as she seems to be talented, of course objections about birth and station might be overlooked. But my brother has expectations from relatives who take the old-fashioned views about a woman's position; and the mere fact of her being a singer or an actress might be against her in their eyes. It would be much better for him if the whole thing were broken off."

She was purposely vague and diplomatic.

"Mr. Lepel's his own master, of course," said the manager; "so perhaps he knows all we can tell him--and more. But you are welcome to use any information that I can give you." His little green eyes gleamed with malice, and a triumphant smile showed itself at the corners of his thick hanging lips. "Miss West's career is well known. Lalli, a member of our orchestra, picked her out of the streets when she was sixteen or seventeen, trained her a bit, and brought her here. We soon found out what sort of person she was, and I spoke my mind to Lalli about it; for, though we're not particular as to a girl's character, still now and then---- Well, she was under his protection at the time, and there was nothing much to be done; so we let her alone. He died suddenly about a couple of years ago; and then, I believe, she accosted Mr. Lepel in the street, and went to his rooms and fastened herself upon him, as women of her sort sometimes do. He took her up, sent her to Italy for a bit, put her under the care of that woman della Scala--as a blind to the public, I suppose--and got her brought out as a singer; and she seems to have had a fair amount of success."

Mr. Ferguson's account of Cynthia's career had an intermixture of fact, but it was so artfully combined with falsehood that it was difficult to disentangle one from the other.

Flossy listened with keen attention; it struck her at once that Mr.

Ferguson was blackening the girl's character out of spite.

"Do you know where she came from before your musician, Lalli, discovered her, Mr. Ferguson?"

"No, I do not, madam. But I have followed her course with interest ever since"--which was true.

"And do you know where she resided before he died?"

"No, madam--I really do not"--which was utterly false. "Perhaps I could ascertain for you, and let you know."

Flossy thanked him and rose. She had not attained her object precisely; but she had received information that might prove extremely valuable.

The manager bowed her out of his room politely, and called to one of his subordinates to show her down-stairs.

This was a little mistake on Mr. Ferguson's part; he did not calculate on his visitor's questioning his subordinate, who happened to be a young man with a taste for the violin.

"Did you know a Mr. Lalli who was once in the orchestra here?" said Flossy graciously.

"Oh, yes, ma'am! He was here for a very long time."

"Do you know where he used to live?"

"Yes, ma'am, No.--, Euston Road; it's a boarding-house, kept by a Mrs.

Wadsley. He died there."

Quite astonished by her own success, Flossy slipped a coin into his hand and made him call her a hansom cab. She was beginning to think of speed more than of the probability of being recognised in the London streets.

To Mrs. Wadsley's then in all haste. The dingily respectable air of the house and of the proprietress herself at once impressed Mrs. Vane with the idea that Mr. Ferguson had been largely drawing on his own imagination with respect to Cynthia West. Nothing certainly could be more idyllic than the story of Lalli's devotion to the girl, whom he had brought home one night with an assurance to Mrs. Wadsley that she was the daughter of an old friend, and that he would be responsible for the payment of her board and lodging until she began to earn her own living.

"He was just like a father to her," said Mrs. Wadsley confidentially; "and teach her he would, and scold her sometimes by the hour together. I assure you, Mrs. Vane, it was wonderful to see the pains that he took with her. I see in the papers that she has been singing at concerts lately; and I said to my friend Mrs. Doldrum, 'How pleased poor dear old Mr. Lalli would have been if he had known!'"

"He was quite an old man, I suppose?" said Mrs. Vane. "There was no talk of marriage between them--of an attachment of any kind?"

Mrs. Wadsley drew herself up in rather an offended manner.

"Certainly not, madam--save as father and daughter might be attached one to another. Mr. Lalli was old enough to be the girl's grandfather; and Cynthia--oh, she was quite a child! I hope you do not think that I should have chaperoned her if any such matter had seemed likely to occur; but there was nothing of the kind. Mr. Lalli was quite too serious-minded for anything of that sort--a deeply religious man, although an Italian, Mrs. Vane."

"Indeed, I am glad to hear it," said Flossy solemnly. "Miss West had no engagement--no love-affair, in short--going on when she was with you?"

"Certainly not, Mrs. Vane."

"Did you ever hear her say where she had lived--where she had been educated--before she came to London?"

"I did hear something of a school that she had been at," said Mrs.

Wadsley, after a little reflection; "but where it was I could not exactly tell you. They were Sisters, I believe, who taught her--Roman Catholics, very probably. 'St. Elizabeth's'--that was the name of the school; but where it is to be found I am sure I cannot say."

"At St. Elizabeth's, East Winstead?" said Mrs. Vane quickly. She had heard the name from the Rumbolds.

"I am sure I cannot say, Mrs. Vane."

"Miss West was not a Roman Catholic, was she?"

"Not to my knowledge," said Mrs. Wadsley with great stiffness.

Flossy's questions had not impressed her favorably; but the words next uttered by her visitor did away to some extent with the bad impression.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Wadsley, for your kind information! The fact is that a relative of mine his fallen in love with Miss West, and I was asked to find out who she was and all about her. Everything I have heard is so entirely charming and satisfactory, that I shall be able to set everything right, and assure my friends that we shall be honored by an alliance with Miss West. I hope we shall see you at the wedding, Mrs.

Wadsley, when it takes place."

"When it takes place," Flossy repeated to herself, when she stood once more in the noisy London street; "but I do not think it will ever take place. I wonder how far it is to East Winstead; and whether it is worth while going there or not?"