“That hasn’t very much to do with it. I’m merely mentioning facts. I haven’t gone into other Abbey family histories very extensively, but I know this one. Never, not in a single instance, has Maundrell Abbey descended from father to son.”
Lee looked away from her for the first time. Her eyes blazed no longer; they looked like cold blue ashes.
“It is time to break the rule,” she said.
“The rule’s not going to be broken. Either the Abbey will go to a stranger, or Cecil will die before Barnstaple is laid out in the crypt——”
Lee rose. “It is an interesting superstition, but it will have to wait,” she said. “I am going now to speak to Mr. Pix—unless you will do it yourself.”
“I’ll do it myself if you’ll be kind enough to mind your business that far.”
“Then I shall go and tell Lord Barnstaple that you have consented——”
“Ah! He sent you, did he? I might have known it.”
Lee bit her lip. “I am sorry—but it doesn’t matter. If to-day is a sample of your usual performances, you can’t expect him to court interviews with you.”
“Oh, he’s afraid of me. I could make any man afraid of me, thank Heaven!”