LADY HELEN MONTGOMERY’S SON
When the young people had gone—Mensmore ill at ease, though tremuously happy that Phyllis had so demonstrated her trust in him, Phyllis herself radiantly confident in the barrister’s powers to set everything right—Bruce devoted himself to the task of determining a new line for his energies.
The first step was self-evident. He must ascertain if the Dykes knew a Colonel Montgomery.
He drove to the Club frequented by Sir Charles, but the baronet was not there, so he went to Wensley House.
Sir Charles was at home, in his accustomed nook by the library fire. He looked ill and low-spirited. The temporary animation he had displayed during the past few weeks was gone. If anything, he was more listless than at any time since his wife’s death.
“Well, Claude,” he said wearily, “anything to report?”
“Yes, a good deal.”
“What is it?”
“I want to ask you something. Did you ever know a Colonel Montgomery, or was your wife acquainted with any one of that name to your knowledge?”
“I do not think she was. Had she ever met such a man I should probably have heard of him. Who was he?”