"I hope you are feeling better, Aunt Louisa?"
"I am still alive, as you see."
Deep-rooted jealousy of Roger dwelt in her, had dwelt in her ever since the early days when her husband had adopted him against her wish when he had been left an orphan. She had not wanted him in her nursery. Her husband had always been fond of him, and later in life had leaned upon him. In the depths of her bitter heart Lady Louisa believed he had preferred his nephew to the two sons she had given him, Dick the ne'er-do-well, and Harry the latecomer—the fool.
Roger moved his eyes slowly round the room, looking always away from the bed, till they fell upon the cat curled up in the arm-chair.
"Holloa, puss!" he said. "Caught a mouse lately?"
"Did you get the power of attorney?" came the voice from the bed.
"No, Aunt Louisa."
The bed-clothes trembled.
"I told you not to come back without it."