"Yes," cried everybody.
"Well, Mehemet Ali's relatives heard the truth about them by some means. Within a reasonable time they were chopped into small pieces, with other details that need not be repeated."
"Dogs, or pigs?" inquired Brett.
"Dogs!"
"I wish you wouldn't say such horrid things," protested Edith. "Is there any news of Monsieur and Madame Dubois, and the fat man Gros Jean?"
"You will receive some in the drawing-room, Lady Fairholme," said Brett; and not another word of explanation would he give until dinner was ended.
In the drawing-room her ladyship was delighted to find a splendid cockatoo, magnificent in size and white as snow, save for the brilliant red crest which he elevated when they all crowded round his handsome cage.
"The happy couple in the Argentine sent him to me to be presented to you on your return," explained the barrister. "He is named 'Le Prophète,' and he talks beautifully—indeed, his language is most emphatic, but it is all French."
"What a darling!" cried Edith. "I do wish he would say something. Cher Prophète, parlez avec moi!"