"It is not my nature to act foolishly all my life. No, I did not starve. I had a good voice, which I managed to get trained. I had also a good idea of acting, so I made a success on the operatic stage as Madame Tagni."
"Oh! are you the celebrated Madame Tagni?"
"I was. Now I am Mrs. Belswin, of no occupation in particular. I sang in the States; I sang in New Zealand----"
"No, because my husband was there. Do you know why I came to New Zealand--a divorced, dishonoured woman? No, of course you don't. I came to see my child. I did see her, unknown to Rupert or to the child herself. I was in New Zealand a long time watching over my darling. Then I went again to the States, but I left friends behind me--good friends, who kept me posted up in all the news of my child Kaituna. Since I left her twenty years ago like a fool, I have known everything about her. I heard in New York how Rupert had lost all his money, owing to the decrease in the value of property. I heard his elder brother had died, and that he had come in for the title. He is Sir Rupert Pethram; I ought to be Lady Pethram."
"But you're not," sneered Dombrain, unable to resist the opportunity.
She flashed a savage glance at him and replied quietly.
"No, I am Mrs. Belswin, that's enough for me at present. But to go on with my story. I heard how my husband had brought our child home to the old country, and leaving her there had returned to New Zealand on business. When this news reached me, I made up my mind at once and came over here. I found out--how, it matters not--that my husband's legal adviser was an old friend of mine, one Alfred Damberton----"
"Ah, I forgot. You are the respectable Mr. Alfred Dombrain now. But it was curious that I should find an old friend in a position so likely to be of use to me."
"Use to you?" groaned Dombrain, savagely.
"Yes; I have seen your advertisement in the paper for a companion for a young lady. Well, I have come to apply for the situation."
"Yes. Personally, and not by letter as you suggested in print."
Mr. Dombrain felt that he was in a fix, and therefore lied, with clumsy malignity.
"That advertisement doesn't refer to your daughter."
"Doesn't it?" said Mrs. Belswin sharply. "Then, why refer to my daughter at all just now?"