But she was not thinking of Mr. Britling. She was talking of something else.
She was saying: "It should not have been known I was here. There are spies everywhere. Everywhere. There is a spy now—or a lump very like a spy. They pretend it is a hot-water bottle. Pretext.... Oh, yes! I admit—absurd. But I have been pursued by spies. Endless spies. Endless, endless spies. Their devices are almost incredible.... He has never forgiven me....
"All this on account of a carpet. A palace carpet. Over which I had no control. I spoke my mind. He knew I knew of it. I never concealed it. So I was hunted. For years he had meditated revenge. Now he has it. But at what a cost! And they call him Emperor. Emperor!
"His arm is withered; his son—imbecile. He will die—without dignity...."
Her voice weakened, but it was evident she wanted to say something more.
"I'm here," said Mr. Britling. "Your nephew Hughie."
She listened.
"Can you understand me?" he asked.
She became suddenly an earnest, tender human being. "My dear!" she said, and seemed to search for something in her mind and failed to find it.
"You have always understood me," she tried.