"If they only would," she said. And then, abruptly: "But you haven't told me of Mr. Widdicombe. Did you see him?"
Gerald smiled. "Yes, oh yes," he answered. "I saw him. But you were right. He wouldn't talk. He wouldn't open his mouth."
"He just sat dumb?"
"He turned to his desk and touched a bell. A clerk came and—that was all."
"You told him that I wished to know?" There was something imperious in her emphasis.
"I did—yes." And again he questioned why that should bear any weight. Although he did not voice it, she read it in his look.
"I'm his near kin, you know," she explained. "We are cousins."
"I understand," he told her, but he thought the explanation far short of adequate.
She got up and crossed the room, and from a drawer in an escritoire took out a small photograph, which she passed to Andrews.
"That was taken in 1900," she said.