"I didn't say that," said Mr. Twist.
"Quite so, quite so. But it's your wish, isn't it. The relationship is to look as grass-grown as possible. Well, I shall be dumb of course, but most things get into the press here. Let me see—" He pulled a sheet of paper towards him and took up his fountain pen. "Just oblige me with particulars. Date of birth. Place of birth. Parentage—"
He looked up ready to write, waiting for the answers.
None came.
"I can't tell you off hand," said Mr. Twist presently, his forehead puckered.
"Ah," said the lawyer, laying down his pen. "Quite so. Not known your young friends long enough yet."
"I've known them quite long enough," said Mr. Twist stiffly, "but we happen to have found more alive topics of conversation than dates and parents."
"Ah. Parents not alive."
"Unfortunately they are not. If they were, these poor children wouldn't be knocking about in a strange country."
"Where would they be?" asked the lawyer, balancing his pen across his forefinger.