"It is a disguised hand"—mused Flaxman—"but an educated one—more or less. However—we will return presently to the letter. Mrs. Sabin's communication to you was of a nature to confirm the statements contained in it?"
"Mrs. Sabin declared to me that having herself—independently—become aware of certain facts, while she was a servant in Lady Fox-Wilton's employment, that lady—no doubt in order to ensure her silence—took her abroad with herself and her young sister, Miss Alice, to a place in France she had some difficulty in pronouncing—it sounded to me like Grenoble; that there Miss Puttenham became the mother of a child, which passed thenceforward as the child of Sir Ralph and Lady Fox-Wilton, and received the name of Hester. She herself nursed Miss Puttenham, and no doctor was admitted. When the child was two months old, she accompanied the sisters to a place on the Riviera, where they took a villa. Here Sir Ralph Wilton, who was terribly broken and distressed by the whole thing, joined them, and he made an arrangement with her by which she agreed to go to the States and hold her tongue. She wrote to her people in Upcote—she had been a widow for some years—that she had accepted a nurse's situation in the States, and Sir Ralph saw her off from Genoa for New York. She seems to have married again in the States; and in the course of years to have developed some grievance against the Fox-Wiltons which ultimately determined her to come home. But all this part of her story was so excited and incoherent that I could make nothing of it. Nor does it matter very much to the subject—the real subject—we are discussing."
Flaxman, who was standing in front of the speaker, intently listening, made no immediate reply. His eyes—half absently—considered the man before him. In Barron's aspect and tone there was not only the pompous self-importance of the man possessed of exclusive and sensational information; there were also indications of triumphant trains of reasoning behind that outraged his listener.
"What has all this got to do with Meynell?" said Flaxman abruptly.
Barron cleared his throat.
"There was one occasion"—he said slowly—"and one only, on which the ladies at Grenoble—we will say it was Grenoble—received a visitor. Miss Puttenham was still in her room. A gentleman arrived, and was admitted to see her. Mrs. Sabin was bundled out of the room by Lady Fox-Wilton. But it was a small wooden house, and Mrs. Sabin heard a good deal. Miss Puttenham was crying and talking excitedly. Mrs. Sabin was certain from what, according to her, she could not help overhearing, that the man—"
"Must one go into this back-stairs story?" asked Flaxman, with repulsion.
"As you like," said Barron, impassively. "I should have thought it was necessary." He paused, looking quietly at his questioner.
Flaxman restrained himself with some difficulty.
"Did the woman have any real opportunity of seeing this visitor?"