“What made you think,” interrupted Lucius Delaunay, who was revolted at the prospect that his curiosity might be satisfied in this vulgar manner, “that there was anything to find out, madam?”
“The tombs,” said Madam Mist promptly. “The stone in the church. I said to myself the moment I saw it, it’s the queerest thing in the world for there not to be any text or any inscription. You know,” and she laughed unpleasantly, “the usual list of Christian virtues, the hope of the Resurrection and all the rest of it. But nothing — nothing at all. And then I went to the mausoleum, and I saw all the tombs of the Sarelles there and I wondered why she wasn’t with them. And I found out that Sir Theodosius, who was buried there, was her twin. They were twenty-four years of age and she survived him six mo
