She slowly turned her vague eyes upon Newman, squeezing her hands together in her lap. “You are not quite faithful, sir. I thought it was to tell me about Mr. Valentin you asked me to come here.”
“Oh, the more we talk of Mr. Valentin the better,” said Newman. “That’s exactly what I want. I was with him, as I told you, in his last hour. He was in a great deal of pain, but he was quite himself. You know what that means; he was bright and lively and clever.”
“Oh, he would always be clever, sir,” said Mrs. Bread. “And did he know of your trouble?”
“Yes, he guessed it of himself.”
“And what did he say to it?”
“He said it was a disgrace to his name—but it was not the first.”
“Lord, Lord!” murmured Mrs. Bread.
“He said that his mother and his brother had once put their heads together and invented something even worse.”
“You shouldn’t have listened to that, sir.”
“Perhaps not. But I did listen, and I don’t forget it. Now I want to know what it is they did.”