So Peter and the Colonel only knew that the two were together and that Ferlie's name was Mrs. Clifford to stave off the world's curiosity.
Digby Maur was already lionized, and, being Digby Maur, his head already felt a little light.
He longed for Ferlie and Cyprian to hear of his triumph at first hand, and appreciated, with a tinge of malice, that the daily papers would afford Cyprian a resentful shock over the publicity bestowed upon the painting of Ferlie.
He decided to find means of introducing himself to explain that the picture was not for sale.
The opportunity occurred sooner than he expected, by way of a lady who had once known the man reputed to be Digby Maur's father, and who felt sorry for the quasi-European son, and glad of his success. She had met the Colonel, and, aware of the respect in which the Banks held him, thought to put the young artist in touch with a possible order for Burmese sketches. Finding herself near Peter she manœuvred the two opposite one another and was about to explain that Digby was the artist of "that red painting," when a friend jostled against her in the crowd and engaged her in conversation. Peter and Digby, barely introduced, were left face to face.
"I must say you have not even a family resemblance to your brother," hazarded Digby.
"Which is not surprising," and Peter eyed him with interest, "seeing that I have no brother."
Maur recalled the Club conclusion of Cyprian's relationship to Ferlie.
"I should have said your half-brother, Mr. Sterne."
"Oh, you've met old Cyprian? No, he is not even my half-brother, though people used to take him for an uncle. He is just an old family friend. But if you have met him you may know my kiddie-sister. She is staying with him in Burma at present."