Chapter XXVII

Jennie Brewster stood with her back to the door, a sweet smile on her face.

'This is my day for acting, Miss Longworth. I think I did the role of housemaid so well that it deceived several members of this family. I am now giving an imitation of yourself in your thrilling drama, "All at Sea." Don't you think I do it most admirably?'

'Yes,' said Edith, sitting down again. 'I wonder you did not adopt the stage as a profession.'

'I have often thought of doing so, but journalism is more exciting.'

'Perhaps. Still, it has its disappointments. When I gave my thrilling drama, as you call it, on shipboard, I had my stage accessories arranged to better advantage than you have now.'

'Do you mean the putting off of the boat?'

'No; I mean that the electric button was under my hand--it was impossible for you to ring for help. Now, while you hold the door, you cannot stop me from ringing, for the bell-rope is here beside me.'

'Yes, that is a disadvantage, I admit. Do you intend to ring, then, and have me turned out?'

'I don't think that will be necessary. I imagine you will go quietly.'

'You are a pretty clever girl, Miss Longworth. I wish I liked you, but I don't, so we won't waste valuable time deploring that fact. Have you no curiosity to hear what I was going to tell you?'

'Not the slightest; but there is one thing I should like to know.'

'Oh, is there? Well, that's human, at any rate. What do you wish to know?'

'You came here well recommended. How did you know I wanted a housemaid, and were your testimonials----'

Edith paused for a word, which Jennie promptly supplied.

'Forged? Oh dear no! There is no necessity for doing anything criminal in this country, if you have the money. I didn't forge them--I bought them. Didn't you write to any of the good ladies who stood sponsor for me?'

'Yes, and received most flattering accounts of you.'

'Certainly. That was part of the contract. Oh, you can do anything with money in London; it is a most delightful town. Then, as for knowing there was a vacancy, that also was money. I bribed the other housemaid to leave.'

'I see. And what object had you in all this?'

Jennie Brewster laughed--the same silvery laugh that had charmed William Longworth an hour or two before, a laugh that sometimes haunted Wentworth's memory in the City. She left her sentinel-like position at the door and threw herself into a chair.

'Miss Longworth,' she said, 'you are not consistent. You first pretend that you have no curiosity to hear what I have to say, then you ask me exactly what I was going to tell you. Of course, you are dying to know why I am here; you wouldn't be a woman if you weren't. Now, I've changed my mind, and I don't intend to tell you. I will say, though, that my object in coming here was, first, to find out for