“Is he an old man?” she asked, suddenly, without turning round from the window.
“If you mean Mr. Michael Vanstone, he is seventy-five or seventy-six years of age.”
“You spoke of his son a little while since. Has he any other sons—or daughters?”
“None.”
“Do you know anything of his wife?”
“She has been dead for many years.”
There was a pause. “Why do you ask these questions?” said Norah.
“I beg your pardon,” replied Magdalen, quietly; “I won’t ask any more.”
For the third time, Mr. Pendril returned to the business of the interview.
“The servants must not be forgotten,” he said. “They must be settled with and discharged: I will give them the necessary explanation before I leave. As for the house, no questions connected with it need trouble you. The carriages and horses, the furniture and plate, and so on, must simply be left on the premises to await Mr. Michael Vanstone’s further orders. But any possessions, Miss Vanstone, personally belonging to you or to your sister—jewelry and dresses, and any little presents which may have been made to you—are entirely at your disposal. With regard to the time of your departure, I understand that a month or more will elapse before Mr. Michael Vanstone can leave Zurich; and I am sure I only do his solicitor justice in saying—”