"It is more than ten years. In fact it is sixteen years--nearly sixteen."
She looked fixedly at him for a moment and something in her memory seemed to stir, for her bosom heaved perceptibly, but she only said, with a deep sigh, "We've seen trouble since you traveled in these parts before, sir."
"Ah, yes, I've heard of it--I heard of it in Reykjavik. You had a son----"
"That was my son who opened the door to you."
"But you had another son--a younger son."
"Yes, but--we never talk of him now, sir."
"Who's portrait is that in your brooch, landlady?"
"It's his--he is dead."
"Died in disgrace, didn't he?"
"Who knows that, sir? Man sees the deed, they say, but God the circumstance."