"But now, with regard to money; you say he wants money. But surely, at the time of the marriage, something was settled on him?"
"Certainly, a good deal. But from the moment she left him, and the Heston bills were paid, he has never touched a farthing of it, and never will."
"So that the General's death was opportune? Well, it's a deplorable affair! And I wish I saw any chance of being of use."
French looked up anxiously.
"Because you know," the speaker reluctantly continued, "there's nothing to be done. The thing's finished."
"Finished?" French's manner took fire. "And the law can do nothing! Society can do nothing, to help that man either to right himself, or to recover his child? Ah!"—he paused to listen—"here he is!"
A cab had drawn up outside. Through the lightly curtained windows the two within saw a man descend from it, pay the driver, and walk up the flagged passage leading to the front door.
French hurried to greet the new-comer.
"Come in, Roger! Here's George Penrose—as I promised you. Sit down, old man. They'll bring us some tea presently."
Roger Barnes looked round him for a moment without replying; then murmured something unintelligible, as he shook hands with Penrose, and took the chair which French pushed forward. French stood beside him with a furrowed brow.