Vivian handed him the book, and watched him with some interest as he read. The frown died away from his forehead, and the mouth gradually assumed a gentler expression before he had turned the first page. In five minutes he was so much absorbed that he did not hear the question which Vivian addressed to him.
"What position," said Rupert, deliberately, "does Miss Murray hold in your father's house?"
"Eh? What? What position?" Away went Percival's book to the floor; he raised himself in his chair, and began to light his pipe, which had gone out. "What do you mean?" he said.
"Is she a ward of your father's? Is she a relation of yours?"
"Yes, of course, she is," said Percival, rather resentfully. "She is a cousin. Let me see. Her father, Gordon Murray, was my mother's brother. She is my first cousin. And Cinderella in general to the household," he added, grimly.
"Oh, Gordon Murray was her father? So I supposed. Then if poor Richard Luttrell had not died I suppose she would have been a sort of connection of my sister's. I remember Angela wondered whether Gordon Murray had left any family."
"Why?"
"Why? You know the degree of relationship and the terms of the will made by Mrs. Luttrell's father, don't you?"
"Not I."
"Gordon Murray—this Miss Murray's father—was next heir after the two Luttrells, if they died childless. Of course, Brian is still living; but if he died, Miss Murray would inherit, I understand."