And here is Mrs.Kebby." That amiable crone had opened the door while the young man was speaking, and now stood eyeing her visitors with a blear-eyed look of dark suspicion.
"What is't ye want ?" she demanded, with a raven-like croak.
"Mr.Peacock has given this lady and myself permission to go over the house," responded Lucian, trying to pass.
"And how do I know if he did ?" grumbled Mrs.Kebby, blocking the way.
"Because I tell you so." "And because I am the daughter of Mr.Vrain," said Diana, stepping forward.
"Lord love ye, miss! are ye ?" croaked Mrs.Kebby, stepping aside.

"And ye've come to look at your pa's blood, I'll be bound." Diana turned pale and shuddered, but controlling herself by an effort of will, she swept past the old woman and entered the sitting-room.

"Is this the place ?" she asked Lucian, who was holding the door open.
"That it is, miss," cried the charwoman, who had hobbled after them, "and yonder is the poor gentleman's blood; it soaked right through the carpet," added Mrs.Kebby, with ghoulish relish.

"Lor! 'ow it must 'ave poured out!" "Hold your tongue, woman!" said Lucian roughly, seeing that Diana looked as though about to faint.

"Get on with your work!" "I'm going; it's upstairs I'm sweeping," growled the crone, retreating.
"You'll bring me to you if ye give a holler.