Cynthia turned upon him like a wild animal at bay, defiance flashing in her mournful magnificent dark eyes.

"My presence insults you less than the words Mrs. Vane has spoken insult me!" she cried, tossing back her head with the proud stag-like gesture which Hubert had learned to know so well. "She is more cruel than I ever thought one woman could be to another! She must know that I have nothing to reproach myself with--that my life is as pure as hers--purer, if all one hears is true." She could not deny herself the vengeful taunt, but was recalled to her better self when she saw Florence blanch under it and suddenly draw back. "But about myself I do not choose to speak. Of my father I will say one word--to you, sir, who I am sure will be just at least to one who craves only for justice--my father, sir, was innocent of the crime for which he was condemned; and some day his innocence will be manifested before all eyes. Mr. Lepel knows--he knew before he was taken ill--that I am Andrew Westwood's daughter. I told him a few days ago."

"And he was so much horrified by the news that this illness is the result. I see now," said Mrs. Vane coolly, "why this break down has taken place. The poor boy, General, has been so harassed and overcome by the discovery that his brain has for the time being given way. And yet this girl pretends that he wants her to remain!"

"I appeal to the doctor!" said Cynthia, suddenly turning as white as Florence herself had done. "If he supports me, you will yield to his decision? If he says that I am not necessary here, I will go. I have no wish to inflict my presence on those to whom it is unwelcome."

She glanced proudly from Mrs. Vane to the General. The old man was much perturbed. He was walking about the room, muttering to himself, his lips protruding, his brow wrinkled with anger and disgust.

"Too bad--too bad!" Cynthia heard him say. "Westwood's daughter--nursing Hubert too! Tut, tut--a bad business this!"

Cynthia resolved upon a bold stroke--she would address him.

"Sir," she said, taking a step towards him, "will you listen to me for a moment? I promise you that I will go if the doctor says that I am not wanted. You need not fear that I shall force myself upon you. I only ask you to forgive me the fact of being my father's daughter until Mr. Lepel is a little stronger--if the doctor says that I must not leave him yet.

When he is better, I vow--I swear that you shall see and hear no more of me! I shall leave the country, and you will never be troubled by me again. But, till then, have pity! Let me help to nurse him; he has been my best friend in the whole world, and I have never yet been able to do anything for him! When he is better, I will go away. Till then, for pity's sake, sir, let me stay!"

Her voice broke; she clasped her hands before her and held down her head to hide her tears. The General, brought to a sudden stop by her appeal to him, eyed her with a mixture of native pity and long-cultivated detestation. He could not but be sorry for her, although she was Westwood's daughter and, by all reports, not much better perhaps than she should be; for he firmly believed in the truth of all Flossy's malignant hints and innuendos. But Cynthia was a handsome woman, and the General was weak; he could not bear to see a handsome woman cry.

"My good girl," he stammered--and then Flossy's significant smile made him stammer all the more--"my girl, I--I do not wish to blame you--personally, of course--not your fault at all--we can't help its being painful, you know."

"Painful--yes," cried Cynthia eagerly; "but pain is sometimes necessary!

You will not drive me away from Hubert's bedside if I can be of any use to him?"

"No, no--I suppose not," said the General, melting in spite of himself.

"I wouldn't for the world do anything to harm poor Hubert. Suppose we hear what the doctor says?"

Cynthia's hand was on the bell immediately, and Jenkins showed himself at the door without delay.

"Jenkins," she said, "it is very important that we should have the doctor here at once. Mrs. Vane--General Vane--want----"

"Give your own orders, General," said Flossy abruptly. She could not lose a chance of annoying and insulting Cynthia.

"H'm, ha--the doctor, my man," said the General, rather taken aback by the demand upon him--"get us the doctor as soon as you can. Tell him--tell him that Mr. Lepel's relatives are here, and no doubt he will come at once."

There was a little silence in the room when Jenkins had disappeared upon his errand. The General stood, with his hands clasped behind him, looking out of a window; Mrs. Vane had sunk into a chair, in which she lay back, her graceful neck turned aside, as if she wanted to avoid the sight of Cynthia, who meanwhile stood upon the hearthrug, head bent and hands folded, waiting gravely and patiently for what she felt to be the decision on her fate.

Presently Mrs. Vane moved a little, fixed her cold eyes on the motionless figure before her, and spoke in tones so low that they did not reach the General's ears.

"What have you done with your father?" she asked.

Cynthia raised her eyes to Mrs. Vane's face for a moment with a flash of scorn in their lustrous depths. She made no other answer.

"You need not think," said Florence deliberately, "that I do not know where he has been until to-day. I know all about him."

"Yes; you set your spies on him," said Cynthia, in equally low but bitter tones. "I was aware of that."

"I know of his movements up to eleven o'clock this morning, and so do the police," said Mrs. Vane. "He came to you this morning--perhaps by appointment, perhaps not--how do I know?--and you drove away with him to St. Pancras Station. There you took his ticket to Liverpool--there you said good-bye. Why did you not wait to see him off? The answer is easy to read--because he never went to Liverpool at all. Did you think we were children like yourself that you could throw dust in our eyes as easily as that?"

Cynthia's dilated eyes asked a question that her lips would not utter.

Flossy smiled.

"You want to know if he has been taken?" she said. "Not yet; but he soon will be. You should not have been seen with him if you wanted him to escape. I suppose you were not aware that the relationship was known?"

No, this certainly Cynthia had not known.

"You have been the means of identifying him to the police," Mrs. Vane went on, with the cruel smile still playing about her thin lips; "otherwise we should hardly have been sure that he had changed his disguise. I almost wonder that you never thought of that."

Then Cynthia made a desperate attempt to stem the tide.

"You are mistaken," she said--Mrs. Vane laughed softly.

"You had better not try to tell lies about it--it is not your forte.

Brazen it out, as you have done hitherto, and you may succeed. A detective has been to Madame della Scala's house already, and he will probably find you out--if you stay here--before long. I am afraid that you are not a very good hand at keeping a secret; but I have put you on your guard, and you should thank me."

"I do not thank you for torturing me," said Cynthia, with a hard dry sob that seemed to be born of agony. "I would rather face all the police and the magistrates of London than you! They will have no difficulty about finding me. If I cannot stay here, I will go back to Madame's house."

"Which you will find closed to you," said Flossy. "After the story that she has heard, Madame della Scala refuses to receive you there again.

You seem to think very little of your father's crime, Miss Westwood; but you will not find society condone it so easily."

Cynthia's face flushed hotly, but she did not reply.

"You had better go away," said Mrs. Vane, leaning forward and speaking almost in a whisper. "Go, and tell no one where you are going--it will be better for you. The police will be here before very long, and possibly they may arrest you."

"I do not think they can do that. No, I shall not hide myself."

"It would be safer for your father," said Flossy, almost inaudibly.

"Listen--I will make a bargain with you. If you go, I will hide part of my own knowledge--I will not let the woman Meldreth describe him accurately--I will help you to put the detectives off the track; and, in return, you will go away at once--where I care not--and never see Hubert again. You may save your father then."

"I will make no bargain with you," said Cynthia solemnly. She looked straight into the white, subtle face--straight into the velvet-brown languorous eyes, full now of a secret fear. "You forget that God protects the innocent and punishes the guilty. I will stay with Hubert; and God will defend my father and the right."

"Your father will be hanged yet," said Flossy, turning away restlessly.

It was her only answer to the girl's courageous words.

CHAPTER XLI.

A little bustle was heard outside the door; and then the doctor came in.

He was a middle-aged man, tall, spare, thoughtful-looking, a little abrupt in manner, but with a kindly face. He had not advanced two steps into the room before he stopped short, held up his hand, and said--

"Hallo--what's that?"

It was the patient's voice again uplifted in snatches of delirious talk.

"Cynthia!" they distinctly heard him calling. "Where's Cynthia? Tell Cynthia that she must come!"

"And why are you not there?" said Doctor Middlemass, darting his finger in Cynthia's direction. "Why don't you go to him at once? It's madness to let him cry out like that!"