“So your cousin Margaret was sixteen?”
“Yes.”
“She was remarkably tall, well-developed for her age.”
“That was a notable characteristic from an early age. We boys used to call her ‘Mama,’ when we wanted to vex her.”
“The three old gentlemen are very much alike. This is the baronet. Who are the others?”
“My father and uncle.”
“What! Do you mean to tell me there is another branch of the family?”
“Well, yes, in a sense. My uncle is dead. His son, my age or a little older, for the youngest of the three brothers was married first, was last heard of in Argentina.”
Brett threw the photograph down with clatter.
“Good Heavens!” he vociferated, “when shall I begin to comprehend this business in its entirety? How many more uncles, and aunts, and cousins have you?”