“I can’t answer for Mrs. Noel Vanstone,” he said, spitefully.  “Mrs. Noel Vanstone has not treated me with the consideration which is my due.  She has taken my permission for granted, and she has only thought proper to tell me that the object of her journey is to see her friends in London.  She went away this morning without bidding me good-by.  She takes her own way as if I was nobody; she treats me like a child.  You may not believe it, Lecount, but I don’t even know who her friends are.  I am left quite in the dark; I am left to guess for myself that her friends in London are her uncle and aunt.”

Mrs. Lecount privately considered the question by the help of her own knowledge obtained in London.  She soon reached the obvious conclusion.  After writing to her sister in the first instance, Magdalen had now, in all probability, followed the letter in person.  There was little doubt that the friends she had gone to visit in London were her sister and Miss Garth.

“Not her uncle and aunt, sir,” resumed Mrs. Lecount, composedly.  “A secret for your private ear!  She has no uncle and aunt.  Another little turn before I explain myself—­another little turn to compose your spirits.”

She took him into custody once more, and marched him back toward the house.

“Mr. Noel!” she said, suddenly stopping in the middle of the walk.  “Do you know what was the worst mischief you ever did yourself in your life?  I will tell you.  That worst mischief was sending me to Zurich.”

His hand began to tremble on her arm once more.

“I didn’t do it!” he cried piteously.  “It was all Mr. Bygrave.”

“You acknowledge, sir, that Mr. Bygrave deceived me?” proceeded Mrs. Lecount.  “I am glad to hear that.  You will be all the readier to make the next discovery which is waiting for you—­the discovery that Mr. Bygrave has deceived you.  He is not here to slip through my fingers now, and I am not the helpless woman in this place that I was at Aldborough.  Thank God!”

She uttered that devout exclamation through her set teeth.  All her hatred of Captain Wragge hissed out of her lips in those two words.

“Oblige me, sir, by holding one side of my traveling-bag,” she resumed, “while I open it and take something out.”

The interior of the bag disclosed a series of neatly-folded papers, all laid together in order, and numbered outside.  Mrs. Lecount took out one of the papers, and shut up the bag again with a loud snap of the spring that closed it.

“At Aldborough, Mr. Noel, I had only my own opinion to support me,” she remarked.  “My own opinion was nothing against Miss Bygrave’s youth and beauty, and Mr. Bygrave’s ready wit.  I could only hope to attack your infatuation with proofs, and at that time I had not got them.  I have got them now!  I am armed at all points with proofs; I bristle from head to foot with proofs; I break my forced silence, and speak with the emphasis of my proofs.  Do you know this writing, sir?”