“Are you his nephew?”
“I—I believe so.”
She looked at him with a little inclination of the head at this confirmation of the idea she had had about him.
“I thought so,” said she. “You are the son of Mr Richard Bayre, old Mr Bartlett Bayre’s brother, and your portrait, taken when you were a little boy, standing beside your father, is at the château in one of the salons.”
Bayre was at once keenly on the alert.
“Does he—do you happen to know—if my uncle ever speaks of me, madam?” he asked with vivid interest.
“Never,” said she.
And she answered with a look which gave both Bayre and Repton the impression that the old man had a decidedly hostile feeling towards his almost unknown young kinsman.
The uncomfortable feeling created by this impression was strongly increased when, after a short silence, the young girl said abruptly,—
“Are you going back to England soon?”