It happened that the conversation turned on the bungalows which lined the banks of the river as it flowed through Willowhurst; and presently Mr. Anson asked a question.
"You've got Vyse down there, haven't you? You know the chap I mean—the portrait-painter."
"I don't think so." Owen was puzzled. "At least I have not heard of him being there. Have you, Toni?"
"Yes—Mr. Anson means Mr. Herrick," said Toni quietly. "He told me the other day he had changed his name."
"Ah yes, I remember now—something about some money, I believe. You know him, Mrs. Rose?"
"Yes. He fished me out of the river one day when I had fallen in," said Toni smiling. "And he has been to see us several times—but I didn't know he was famous," she finished naïvely.
"Didn't you? Why, he is—or was—one of the foremost men in his own line until there was the trouble with his wife."
"Surely you don't mean that jewel affair?" Owen asked meditatively. "Didn't Vyse's wife steal a pearl necklace or something of the sort? I seem to remember something about it—though I did not connect it with this chap."
"His wife—who was one of the prettiest Irish girls I ever saw—got a valuable necklace on approval and pawned it for money to pay her debts, yes. Poor fellow, it broke him up completely."
"Really?" Owen was interested. "Where is she—the wife—now? Did he leave her, or what happened?"