XLII
She was a plump and kindly lady of a little more than middle age, with evidences of wealth about her and a handkerchief ready for service.
"You don't know me," she said to Ben, "but I know you, or rather all about you. In a kind of way we're relations."
Ben expressed her surprise.
"If there is such a thing as a step-aunt," said the lady, "I'm one. I'm Belle's sister."
"Oh!" said Ben. "Mrs. Vicat?"
Her visitor admitted it.
"Of course," said Ben, sympathetically. "I've heard about you. Your son died quite recently. I'm so sorry."
The handkerchief came into play.
"Yes," said Mrs. Vicat. "He never had a chance, he was so badly wounded. But he lingered on and on and was always so brave. And now he's gone. It's because I want to do something in memory of him that I'm here. My sister told me to come to you. 'Go to "The Beck and Call,"' she said, 'and talk to my stepdaughter. She's very clever and quick at thinking of things. But of course you must pay,' she said.