“Absolutely. My logic triumphed.”
The pair subsided into silence for a season, a peaceful interlude suffused as with a beatific sanctity. The fire jigged and flickered in the grate. Mr. Mince’s gray socks smoked. The black cat purred beneath the vicaress’s bony hand.
“And the money?” she said, at last, her large, yellow face gleaming in the fire-light.
Her husband awoke as from some saintly reverie.
“Zeus Gildersedge stated certain facts to me,” he said, “facts that I may confide to your admirable discretion.”
“Of course, my dear.”
“Mrs. Primmer and I were witnesses to his will. He has left the bulk of his money to charitable enterprises and missions.”
“Most creditable.”
“A solid annuity has been settled on Mrs. Primmer.”
“A most deserving woman.”