Mr. Widdicombe's yellow, seamed cheeks took on a deeper color. They blushed—brownly. He was a bachelor of rigid impeccability, and he was embarrassed.
"There was never any service or ceremony," he said, looking away. "The prefix 'Mrs.' was assumed rather than warranted. In Papeete the moral code is somewhat lightly held."
Oddly enough, Nina appeared much relieved.
"Ah, I see!" she said. "That, of course, makes a difference—a very great difference."
The solicitor's eyes came back to her. "It does indeed," he affirmed. "And it is because of that difference that I am here. The little girl in Dundee, now that her uncle is dead, is without friends and penniless."
Mrs. Darling stood up.
"Lord Kneedrock made no provision for her?"
"He had fully intended to do so, but neglected it. Indeed it was for that purpose that he visited me on the morning of that unfortunate day. He had just returned from Dundee, as you may remember; and I am of the opinion that he was himself conscious of his failing health, both physically and mentally.
"Moreover, David Phipps was ill at the time, and he clearly foresaw the urgent necessity of prompt action. As long as Phipps lived—he was already handsomely pensioned—the child would have had a home.
"But the pension ceased by its provisions at the old man's death, and, as he left no will, his little savings go to his brother, who, strangely enough, is a guard at the Zoölogical Gardens, and was the most important witness at the coroner's inquest."