“If I can, sir.”
“I believe you acted as valet to the late Lord Reckavile many years ago?”
The landlord’s face set like a mask.
“I may ’ave done,” he said evasively.
“I want to ask you plain and straight, were you present at his marriage to his first wife, an Italian lady with whom he had eloped.”
Southgate leapt to his feet with a snarl.
“What do you want to know?”
“Sit down, please, I will tell you. I am his son, born in Italy, and she was my mother—now you know.”
Southgate covered his head with his hands, and something like a sob escaped him.
“My God! If I ’ad only known,” he cried.