"I guess he's a fine chap," he said slowly. "And he can give her a fancy handle to her name. Judas Priest! What can I give her? I'm—I'm a servant, I am. I've learned a lot since I came over here. Let's go back to California!"
"I know, Richard," I replied soothingly. "California, where there are no servants! I'm really sorry, dear boy, but remember we don't know anything definite yet. And we don't know anything against the duke, either."
"Do you know about his older brother?" asked Richard, the chauffeur, abruptly.
"No! What about him?" I answered quickly.
"He disappeared very mysteriously about ten years ago," said Richard. "Two guys that was on the boat coming over from England was talking to me about it. They are here now. I met them in a saloon and they told me a little something."
"Repeat it all, Richard!" I commanded. "What did they say?"
"Well, it seems this brother was the duke," elucidated my informant. "He was last seen in Africa on a hunting expedition with our duke. And then the both of them disappeared for a while. When the duke come back he had the title. There seems to be some doubt about his having a honest claim to it."
"What nonsense!" I said. "Talbot, you no sooner convince me that you are not a servant than you begin to talk like one. My Cousin Abby receives him, and that is enough! You should not listen to such wild stories!"
By this time we had reached the Villa Bordeaux, and taking my workbag I descended. Richard, the chauffeur, parked the car and settled back in it, presumably to dwell upon the unhappy course of his love while he waited for me; and I entered the villa, much disturbed by what he had just told me, and determined to find out the whole truth at once.
I found Cousin Abby immersed in newspapers, cigarette smoke and a most attractive negligee; and though I could never endure to see a woman lounging round the house in a wrapper I confess she looked charming. At my entrance she glanced up without rising.