An evil soul producing holy witness,
Is like a villain with a smiling face.
A goodly apple, rotten at the core.
—Shakespeare.

And when her footman had retired Claudia gave herself up to severe and painful thought upon what she had just heard. And the more she reflected on the circumstances the more firmly convinced she became that poor old Katie had suffered foul play; though of what precise nature or by whom exactly dealt she could not decide. Whether Katie had been kidnaped and sent away; or immured in one of the underground dungeons of the castle; or murdered; or whether the perpetrators of either of these crimes were Lord Vincent and Faustina; or Lord Vincent and Frisbie; or Faustina and Frisbie; or finally, whether all three were implicated, she could not determine. And the whole question overwhelmed her with horror. Was this ancient and noble castle really a den of thieves and assassins? One frightful murder had already been committed. Another had perhaps been perpetrated. Was even her own life safe in such a cut-throat place? She feared not; and she knew that she must act with exceeding caution and prudence to insure her safety. What then should she do? What became her duty in these premises? Clearly she could not leave the faithful servant, who had probably lost life or liberty in her service, to such a fate. And yet for Lady Vincent to stir in the matter would be to risk her own life.

No matter! Claudia, with all her faults, was no coward.

And with a sudden resolution she arose and went downstairs and into the library, where Lord Vincent sat drinking and smoking.

"Lady Vincent, I believe I sent you word that I was engaged," said the viscount, as soon as he saw her.

"Not very particularly engaged, I believe, my lord," said Claudia, resolutely advancing toward him.

"I was smoking. And I understood that you disliked smoke," said Lord
Vincent, throwing away the end of his cigar.

"There are crises in life, my lord, that make us forget such small aversions. One such crisis is at hand now," answered Claudia gravely.

"Will your ladyship explain?" he demanded, placing a chair for her.
Evidently the brandy or something or other had strung up Lord
Vincent's nerves.

Claudia took the seat, and sitting opposite to him, fixed her eyes upon his face and said:

"Are you aware, Lord Vincent, that my servant Katie has been missing since yesterday afternoon?"

"Indeed? Where has the old creature taken herself off to? She has not eloped with one of our canny Scots, has she?" inquired the viscount, coolly lighting another cigar and puffing away at it.

"Such jesting, my lord, is cruelly out of place! It has not been many days since a very horrid murder was committed on these premises. The murderer has eluded detection. And apparently such impunity has emboldened assassins. I have too much cause to fear that my poor old servant has shared Ailsie Dunbar's fate!"

Before Claudia had finished her sentence Lord Vincent had dropped his cigar and was gazing at her in ill-concealed terror.

"What cause have you for such absurd fears? Pray do you take the castle of my ancestors to be the lair of banditti?" he asked in a tone of assumed effrontery, but of real cowardice.

"For something very like that indeed, my lord!" answered Claudia, with a terrible smile.

"I ask you what cause have you for entertaining these preposterous suspicions?"

"First of all, the assassination of Ailsie Dunbar and the successful concealment of her murderer. Secondly, the mysterious disappearance of my servant Katie, just at a time when it was desirable to some parties to get her out of the way," said Claudia emphatically, and fixing her eyes firmly on the face of the viscount, that visibly paled before her gaze.

"What—what do you mean by that?"

"My lord, I will tell you. Yesterday afternoon, as I was descending to dinner, old Katie met me on the stairs and with a frightened face told me that she had made an important discovery that she wished to communicate to me. I directed her to go to my dressing room and wait there until my return from dinner, when I fully intended to hasten at once to her side and hear what she had to say—"

"Some 'mare's nest' of a new rumor concerning the murderer of Ailsie Dunbar, I suppose," said the viscount, with a feeble attempt to sneer.

"No, my lord, I rather think it was something concerning my own safety. But I never knew; for you may recollect that on last evening your lordship detained me in conversation some time after dinner. When I went to my dressing room Katie was not there. I thought she had grown sleepy and had gone to bed, and so I felt no anxiety on that score. But this morning, my lord, she is missing. She is nowhere to be found."

"Oh, I dare say she has gone visiting some of the country people with whom she has picked acquaintance. She will turn up all right by and by."

"I fear not, my lord."

"Why do you 'fear not'?"

"Because there are other very suspicious circumstances connected with the disappearance of Katie, that since her evanishment have recurred to my memory, or been brought to knowledge."

"Pray, may one ask without indiscretion, what these suspicious circumstances are?"

"Certainly, my lord; it was to report them that I came here. First, then, last evening on my return towards my own room I was a little startled by hearing a scream, quickly smothered, and then a fall and a scuffling, soon silenced. These sounds came from the apartment of Mrs. Dugald—"

"The demon!" burst involuntarily from the unguarded lips of Lord
Vincent.

Claudia heard, but continued to speak as though she had not heard.—"I caught one single word of the conversation that ensued. It was—'Faustina!' and it was your voice that uttered it. I therefore supposed at the time, my lord, that you were only having one of your customary slight misunderstandings with your—sister-in-law."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, that was it! She was suffering from an attack of hysterics; and I had to go in and control her a little. She has been subject to these attacks ever since the death of her husband, poor woman," said he, in a quavering voice.

Claudia eyed him closely and continued:

"That was the circumstance that recurred to my memory with so much significance when Katie was reported missing this morning. Then, upon making inquiries as to where and by whom she was last seen, another very significant circumstance was brought to my knowledge; that she was seen last evening to issue from your rooms immediately after you and your valet left them; and it appears to have been just after that she met me on the steps."

"Flames of—! What was she doing in my rooms?" exclaimed the viscount, losing all self-command for the moment and turning ghastly white with the mingled passions of rage and terror.

"I do not know, my lord; probably her duty, a part of which is to keep your linen in order. But whatever took her to your rooms, on that occasion, or detained her there, it is very evident that while there she made some frightful discovery which she wished to communicate and would have communicated to me had she not been— prevented," said Claudia firmly.

Lord Vincent was tremendously agitated, but struggled hard to regain composure. At last he succeeded.

"Who told you that she was seen coming from my rooms? What spy, what eavesdropper, what mischief-maker have you in your employ that goes about my house—watching, listening, and tale-bearing? If I detect such a culprit in the act I will break his or her neck, and that you may rely upon!" he said.

"Have you broken Katie's neck?" inquired Lady Vincent.

"Ha, ha, ha! If I had caught her hiding in my rooms I should have done so beyond all doubt! Luckily for her I did not do so, as you must be aware, since you say she was seen coming out of them."

"Yes; but she was never seen to leave the castle!"

"Lady Vincent, what is it that you dare to insinuate?"

"My lord, I insinuate nothing. I tell you plainly that I feel myself to be—not in a nobleman's castle, but in a brigand's fastness; and that I suspect my poor old servant has been foully made way with."

"Lady Vincent, how dare you!"

"You may glare at me, my lord, but you shall not intimidate me. I have seen one murdered woman in the house; I do strongly suspect the presence of another, and I know not how soon my own life may fall a sacrifice to the evil passions of the fiend that rules your fate. I have been silent in regard to my deep wrongs for a long time, my lord. But now that my poor servant has fallen a victim to her fidelity, I can be silent no longer! I am here alone, helpless, and in your power! Yet I must make my protest, and trust in God's mercy to deliver me, and what is left of mine, from the hands of the spoiler!" said Claudia solemnly.

Sometimes necessity compels people to think and act with great rapidity; to rally their faculties and charge a difficulty at a moment's notice.

This was the case with the Viscount Vincent now. Very quickly he collected his mind, formed his resolution, and acted upon it.

"Lady Vincent," he said, in a kinder tone than he had yet used, "your words shock and appall me beyond all measure. Your suspicions wrong me cruelly, foully; I know nothing whatever of the fate of your woman; on my soul and honor, I do not! But if you really suspect that anyone had an interest in the taking off of that poor old creature, tell me at once to whom your suspicions point, and I will do my very utmost to discover the truth. By all my hopes of final redemption and salvation, I will!" he added, looking earnestly in her face.

Claudia gazed at him in utter amazement. Could this be true? she asked herself. Could a man look so full in her face, speak so earnestly, and swear by such sacred things, while telling a falsehood? To one of Claudia's proud nature it was easier to believe a man guilty of murder than of lying and perjury. She was thoroughly perplexed.

Lord Vincent saw the effect his words had had upon her, and he was encouraged to follow up his success.

"Whom do you suspect, Claudia?" he inquired.

She answered honestly.

"My lord, I will tell you truly. I suspect you."

"Me!" he exclaimed, with a laugh of incredulity. Never were honest scorn and righteous indignation more forcibly expressed. "Me! Why, Claudia, in the name of all the insanities in Bedlam, why should you suspect me? What interest could I possibly have in getting rid of your amusing gorilla?"

"My lord, I hope that I have wronged you; but I feared that Katie had become possessed of some secret of yours which you wished to prevent her from divulging."

"And for that you thought I would have taken her life?"

"For that reason I thought you would have made away with her—by kidnaping and sending her out of the country, or by immuring her in one of the dungeons of the castle, or even by—"

"Speak out! 'Cutting her throat,' why don't you say?"

"Oh, Lord Vincent, but this is horrible, horrible!" shuddered
Claudia.

"Ha, ha, ha! Well, upon my life, my lady, you are excessively complimentary to me! But I am willing to believe that the tragic event of last week has shattered your nervous system and disturbed the equilibrium of your mind. But for that I should hardly know how to pardon your absurd insults. Have you anything more to say to me, Lady Vincent?"

"Only this, my lord; that if I find I have wronged you by this dreadful suspicion, as perhaps I have, I shall be glad, yes, overjoyed, to acknowledge it and beg your pardon. And, in the meantime, I must ask you to keep your word with me, and investigate the disappearance of Katie!"

"I will do so willingly, Lady Vincent. And now a word with you. Will you not change your mind and go with us to Mr. and Mrs. Dean to- night?"

"No, my lord," replied Claudia, in a tone that admitted of no further discussion of the question.

And thus they parted.

For some time after Claudia left the library Lord Vincent remained sitting with his brows contracted, his mouth clenched, and his eyes fixed upon the ground. He was in deep thought. Handsome man as he was, villain was written all over his face, form, and manner in characters that even a child could have read; and, therefore, no one was to be pitied who, having once seen Lord Vincent, suffered themselves to be deceived by him.

Presently he arose, bent toward the door and peered out, and, seeing that the coast was clear, he went out with his stealthy, cat-like step, and stole softly to the room of Mrs. Dugald.

She was in her boudoir.

He entered without knocking, locked the door behind him, and went and sat down by her side.

"What now?" she inquired, looking up.

"What now? Why, all is lost unless we act promptly!"

"I said it."

"Faustina, she has missed Katie!"

"That was a matter of course."

"But she suspects her fate."

"What care we what she suspects? She can prove nothing," said Mrs.
Dugald contemptuously.

"Faustina, she can prove everything if she follows up the clew she has found. Listen. She was in the hall, near the door, when the deed was done! She heard the struggle and the cry and a part of our conversation."

"We shall all be guillotined!" cried the woman, starting to her feet and standing before him in deadly terror.

"We have no guillotining in England; but hanging is equally or even more disagreeable."

"How can you talk so when my bones are turning to gristle and my heart to jelly with the fright!" cried Mrs. Dugald.

"I jest to reassure you. If we act with promptitude there will be no danger; not in the least. I have thrown her off the scent for the present; I have told her that the noise, the struggle, the cry, and the exclamation she heard were nothing but this—that you were suffering from an attack of hysterics, and that I was trying to control and soothe you. I told her that I knew nothing whatever of the fate of her gorilla; and I did not spare the most solemn oaths to assure her of the truth of my statement."

"Good! but was she assured?"

"Not fully. She is confused, bewildered, perplexed, thrown out of her reckoning and off the track; and before she has time to recover herself, collect her faculties, and get upon the scent again, we must act. We must draw the net around her. We must place her in a position in which her character as a witness against you would he totally vitiated. To do this we must hasten the denouement of the plot."

"That plot which will rid me of my rival and make me—me—Lady Vincent!" exclaimed the siren, her eyes sparkling with anticipated triumph.

"Yes, my angel, yes! And I would it were to-morrow!"

"Ah, but, in the meanwhile, if I should be found out and guillotined!" she cried, with a shudder.

"Hanged, my angel, hanged; not guillotined! I told you we do not guillotine people in England."

"Ah—h—h!" shrieked the guilty woman, covering her face with her hands.

"But I tell you there is no danger, my love; none at all, if we do but act promptly and firmly. The time is ripe. The plot is ripe. She herself walks into the trap, by insisting on staying at home this evening, instead of accompanying us to the theater. I have sent the carriage for Mrs. MacDonald. She will come to luncheon with us, and afterwards go with us to the play. My lady will remain at home, by her own request."

"Does Frisbie know the part he is to play?"

"Yes; but not the precise hour of his debut. That I shall teach him to-day. He will be well up in his lesson by this evening, you may depend."

"Ah, then we shall finish the work to-night!"

"We shall finish it to-night."

"But Mrs. MacDonald—will she not be in the way?"

"No; as I shall arrange matters, she will be of the greatest use and help to us, without knowing it. First, as a most respectable chaperon for you, and, secondly, as a most indubitable witness of the fall of Lady Vincent."

"Good! good! I see! To-night, then, she shall be cast down from her proud pedestal. And to-morrow—"

"To-morrow she shall be dismissed from the castle."

"But then I shall have to go, too. I could not stay—the world would talk."

"No, Faustina, you shall not go. I shall go and leave you here, and invite Mrs. MacDonald to remain and bear you company until—until I shall be free, my angel, to return and make you my wife."

She clapped her hands with great glee and eagerly demanded:

"And when will that be? Oh, when will that be? How soon? how soon?"

"It may be weeks; it may be months; for the Divorce Courts are proverbially slow. But the time will come at length; for I have taken every measure to insure perfect success."