“I was hearin' at the Club to-day about his old trouble.” Fleur opened her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Monsieur Profond moved his sleek head as if to minimize his statement.
“Before you were born,” he said; “that small business.”
Though conscious that he had cleverly diverted her from his own share in her father's worry, Fleur was unable to withstand a rush of nervous curiosity. “Tell me what you heard.”
“Why!” murmured Monsieur Profond, “you know all that.”
“I expect I do. But I should like to know that you haven't heard it all wrong.”
“His first wife,” murmured Monsieur Profond.
Choking back the words, “He was never married before,” she said: “Well, what about her?”
“Mr. George Forsyde was tellin' me about your father's first wife marryin' his cousin Jolyon afterward. It was a small bit unpleasant, I should think. I saw their boy—nice boy!”
Fleur looked up. Monsieur Profond was swimming, heavily diabolical, before her. That—the reason! With the most heroic effort of her life so far, she managed to arrest that swimming figure. She could not tell whether he had noticed. And just then Winifred came in.