Tansley showed his interest.
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Then, she's something to tell."
"Why to me?" demanded Brent.
"You're Wallingford's next of kin," said the solicitor laconically. "That's why."
"Wonder what it is?" muttered Brent. "Some feminine fancy maybe."
"Go and find out, man!" laughed Tansley.
"Just so," replied Brent. "I'm going now. But look here—who and what is this Mrs. Saumarez? Post me up."
Tansley waved his cigar in the air, as if implying that you could draw a circle around his field of knowledge.
"Oh, well," he said, "you saw her to-day. So you're already aware that she's young and pretty and charming—and all that. As for the rest, she's a widow, and a wealthy one. Relict, as we say in the law, of a naval officer of high rank, who, I fancy, was some years older than herself. She came here about two years ago and rents a picturesque old place that was built, long since, out of the ruins of the old Benedictine Abbey that used to stand at the rear of what's now called Abbey Gate—some of the ruins, as you know, are still there. Clever woman—reads a lot and all that sort of thing. Not at all a society woman, in spite of her prettiness—bit of a blue-stocking, I fancy. Scarcely know her myself."
"I think you said my cousin knew her?" suggested Brent.