Christopher peacefully smoked, his body well spread out in the chair, his broad rather clumsy-looking fingers clutching devotedly at his pipe.
"So you were at the funeral the other day?"
"I was. I expect I mourned her more sincerely than any of you. I'd never seen her, but she meant a lot to me—as a symbol. And I like symbols better than human beings."
He pulled his body together with a little jerk and leaned forward: "Christopher, do you remember, a long while ago, going into a gallery in Bond Street and meeting Lady Adela Beaminster there and Lady Seddon? It was just after Ross's portrait was first shown."
"I remember," said Christopher, nodding his head. "You were there."
"I was. I was there with Arkwright the African explorer man. I only mention the day because Arkwright was interested in Lady Seddon, wanted to know all about her, and I talked a bit, I remember. My point to him was that there was a situation between that girl and her grandmother that would be worth anybody's watching. I followed it myself for a while and then I lost it. But you're a friend of the family—tell me, Christopher, what happened between those two."
"Nothing," Christopher said, laughing.
"Oh, nonsense," Brun answered. "They were all in it. Something went on. Then Seddon had that accident ... Breton was in it."
But Christopher only smiled.
"Well, if you won't—n'importe—I have my own idea of it all. That girl was a fine girl, and the old woman was fine too—