Part 18 (1/2)
”Dedieu?--Dedieu?” he repeated thoughtfully, at the same time nervously twirling a quill between his fingers. ”The name is uncommon, and not at all familiar to me. I--I'm sure I don't remember ever hearing it before.”
”You don't believe, then, that my brother ever knew such a person?”
asked Hugh.
”Well, really, how is it possible that I should know?” asked Graham, with suavity. ”It was scarcely likely he would make me acquainted with matters of that description.”
Hugh plied him with several well-directed questions, but the old man's memory was peculiarly vacant at that moment. He shook his head, reiterating his statement that his mind was perfectly blank upon the subject, declaring emphatically that he never heard of such a young person as Mademoiselle Valerie, whoever she was.
Such an element of truth did this statement possess, and so blandly was it delivered, that Hugh felt perfectly satisfied. For some time past he had been very much perturbed by the curious discovery of the photograph and letters, but his misgivings were now set at rest by this rea.s.surance.
”Well, if you really don't know her, I need not take up any more of your time,” he remarked, rising.
”I a.s.sure you, Mr. Hugh, as the trusted adviser of your family, it would give me the utmost pleasure to a.s.sist you if I could, but her existence is quite unknown to me,” protested the old man. ”Was she a friend of yours, may I ask?” he added, with a mischievous twinkle in his dim eye.
”Well, yes, Graham. I have the pleasure of the lady's acquaintance.”
”Ah, I thought so. Young men are not so eager about a woman's antecedents unless they love her.”
”Form your own conclusions, Graham. I've an appointment, so good-day.”
Laughing gayly, he departed, the old man bowing him out obsequiously.
After he had gone, the occupant of the dingy chamber stood for a long time before the fire cleaning his pince-nez upon his silk handkerchief, thinking over the errands of his two clients--so strangely dissimilar, yet so closely allied.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
STUDIO SECRETS.
”If you please, sir, a lady wants to see you very particularly.”
”A lady, Jacob,” exclaimed Hugh Trethowen, who was in the lazy enjoyment of a cigar and a novel in his sitting-room, at the close of a dull, wet January day. ”Who is she?”
”I don't know, sir. She wouldn't give her card.”
”Young?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Pretty?”
”Well, I suppose I'm not much of a judge at my time of life, Master Hugh,” protested the old servant.
”Get along with you,” laughed his master. ”You can yet distinguish a pretty girl from a fossilised hag, I'll be bound. Show her in, and let's have a look at her.” Rising, he glanced at himself in the mirror, settled his tie, and smoothed his hair; for the appearance of a lady was an unusual phenomenon at his rooms.
When the door opened he walked towards it to welcome his visitor, but halted halfway in amazement.
”Why, Dolly, is it you?” he exclaimed, gripping her gloved hand.
”Yes, Mr. Trethowen; I--I don't think I ought to have come here--to your chambers,” she replied, glancing round the room rather timidly; ”but I wanted to tell you something.”
”Surely there's no harm in interviewing the lion in his den, is there?”