“Yes.”
“He didn’t lie to me.”
“And your wife?”
“I never spoke of it to her. I saw her with the boy, and—well, I saw her with the boy, and what she was to him when he was close to death.”
His voice went for a moment. Then he added:
“I told her I’d had a presentiment Hugo was ill. She believed me, I think. If not, she’s kept her secret.”
Just then the dining-room door opened, and Lady Inley put in her pretty head.
“Are you never coming?” she said with her little childish drawl.
I got up, and went towards her.
“By the way, Nino,” she added, “the bell was for poor, funny old Miss Bassett. What will her cat do, I wonder?”