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Page 58
Sir Lucius lighted a cigar, and handed his case to Nevill.
"Been out of town this summer?" he asked.
"The usual thing, that's all--an occasional run down to Brighton, a
month at country houses, and a week's shooting on the Earl of Runnymede's
Scotch moor."
"London agrees with you. I believe you are a little stouter."
"And you are looking half a dozen years younger, my dear uncle. How is
the liver?"
"It ought to be pretty well shaken to pieces, from the way I've trotted
it about. It hasn't troubled me for months, I am glad to say. I've had
a most enjoyable holiday, and a longer one than I intended to take. I
stopped in Norway seven weeks, and then went to the Continent. I did the
German baths, Vienna and a lot of other big cities, and came to Paris.
There I met an old Anglo-Indian friend, and he dragged me down to the
Riviera for a month. But there is no place like home. I've been in town
only a couple of hours--crossed this morning. And to-morrow I'm off to
Priory Court."
"So soon?"
"Yes; I can't endure your fogs."
There was an awkward pause. Nevill struck a match and put it to his
cigar, though it did not need relighting. Sir Lucius coughed, and
stirred nervously in his chair.
"You remember that little matter I wrote you about," he began. "Have you
done anything?"
"My dear uncle, I have left nothing undone that I could think of,"
Nevill replied; "but I am sorry to say that I have met with no success
whatever. It was a most difficult undertaking, after so many years."
"I feared it would be. You didn't advertise?"
"No; you told me not to do that."
"Quite right. I wished to avoid all publicity. But what steps did you
take?"
"I made careful inquiries, interviewed some of the older school of
artists, and searched London and provincial directories for some years
back. Then I consulted a private detective. I put the matter in his
hands. He worked on it for a couple of months, and finally said that
it was too much for him. He could not discover a trace of either your
sister or her husband, and he suggested that they probably emigrated
to America or Australia years ago."
"That is more than possible," assented Sir Lucius; "and it is likely
that they are both dead. But they may have left children, and for their
sakes--". He broke off abruptly, and sighed. "I should like to have a
talk with your private detective, if he is a clever fellow," he added.
"He is clever enough," Nevill replied slowly, "but I am afraid you
would have to go a long distance to find him. He went to America a week
ago to collect evidence for a divorce case in one of the Western States."
"Then he will hardly be back for months," said Sir Lucius. "No matter.
I think sometimes that it is foolish of me to take the thing up. But when
a man gets to my age, my boy, he is apt to regret many episodes in his
past life that seemed proper and well-advised at the time. I am convinced
that I was too harsh with your aunt. Poor Mary, she was my favorite
sister until--"
He stopped, and his face hardened a little at the recollection.
"I wish I could find her," said Nevill.
"I am sure you do, my boy. I am undecided what steps to take next. It
would be a good idea to stop in town for a couple of days and consult
a private inquiry bureau. But no, not in this weather. I will let the
matter rest for the present, and run up later on, when we get a spell
of sunshine and cold."
"I think that is wise. Meanwhile I am at your service."
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