“No, I didn’t. I came upon purely—er—family affairs. I fancy you have never met my young cousin, Pen Brown?”
“Never knew you had a cousin of that name. Who is he?” said Cedric cheerfully.
Sir Richard made a slight movement, indicating Pen’s presence. The room was deeply shadowed, for the waiter had not yet brought in the candles, and the twilight was fading. Cedric turned his head, and stared with narrowed eyes towards the window-seat, where Pen had been sitting, half hidden by the curtains. “Damme, I never saw you!” he exclaimed. “How d’ye do?”
“Mr Brandon, Pen,” Sir Richard explained.
She came forward to shake hands, just as the waiter entered with a couple of chandeliers. He set them down upon the table, and moved across the room to draw the curtains. The sudden glow of candlelight for a moment dazzled Cedric, but as he released Pen’s hand his vision cleared, and became riveted on her guinea-gold curls. A portentous frown gathered on his brow, as he struggled with an erratic memory. “Hey, wait a minute!” he said. “I haven’t seen you before, have I?”
“No, I don’t think so,” replied Pen in a small voice.
“That’s what I thought. But there’s something about you—did you say he was a cousin of yours, Ricky?”
“A distant cousin,” amended Sir Richard.
“Name of Brown?”
Sir Richard sighed. “Is it so marvellous?”