"We may come to the point at once, Lord Rosmore. Where is Mistress
Barbara Lanison?"
"I hear that she is a prisoner in Dorchester."
"By your contriving."
"It is natural you should think so, seeing the position I hold in the
West Country at the present time."
"I do not think, I know," Crosby answered. "By a trick, and through a
lying messenger, you induced her to travel to Dorchester and had her
arrested on the journey."
"Let us suppose this to be the case, is it not just possible that there
may be a legitimate reason for such a trick?"
"I am ready to listen," said Crosby.
"Always supposing that your knowledge is correct, is it not possible
that Mistress Lanison may foolishly believe herself enamoured of a
certain somewhat notorious person, and that those who have her
well-being at heart think it necessary to protect her from this
notorious person until she becomes more sensible?"
Harriet Payne watched him as he spoke. There was a smile upon his
handsome face such as any honest man's might wear when dealing with an
excitable and imaginative opponent. Then, as Crosby spoke, she looked at
him.
"I will tell you the truth," he said, speaking in a low, clear, and
incisive tone.
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