“He’s Helga’s cousin, of course. And he’s the nearest living male in the family. I suppose he’s an heir-male or whatever they call it. Friocksheim goes down the male line, I’ve heard.”
“Nothing very new in all that, Mr. Stickney. Don’t you know something about him personally?”
“Not much,” Freddie replied, doubtfully. “I’ve never met him before I came here this time. He’s been abroad till quite lately. A bit of a rolling stone, from all I’ve heard. Remittance man, or something like that.”
“A ne’er-do-well, then?”
“I think so. Most likely.”
“Any other pleasant characteristics you can think of?”
Freddie hesitated for an instant, then apparently he made up his mind to divulge something.
“Of course, Mrs. Caistor Scorton, this is absolutely in confidence. You won’t repeat it?”
She shook her head, and he continued.
“He’s very hard up. I know that for a fact. I happened to be walking in the garden that night he was playing bridge with you. He and the old man were talking; and I chanced to overhear some things they said. Of course, I wasn’t listening on purpose; but sometimes one can’t help catching a sentence or two.”