"Did he die young?" asked Lucia. "And who was he?"
"Seems to have been eighty-three. Lived at Brayton, three miles away. Immense property for somebody. Hadn't got children."
Aunt Cathie was one of those newspaper-readers, who must be numerous considering the care and plentifulness with which they are catered for, who are intensely interested in the doings of people they have never seen, and indeed never heard of except through the medium of the daily press. Her trenchant comment on Lord Brayton's death, indeed, was founded on more than this, for she had once seen his lordship standing in the window of the County Club with a glass of what was probably brandy-and-soda in one hand, and an unmistakable cigar in the other. But she was equally interested in mere names, and before leaving the table read through various lists of guests at different dinner-parties in town, and observed that there was a great deal going on. But with Elizabeth lying down upstairs, the duty of ordering dinner and making the daily inspection of the larder fell upon her, and since this had to be done immediately after breakfast, before the tradesmen called, she had little time to spare for the paper. Indeed, she did but glance at the Court Circular.
"Edgar Comber," she observed as she got up. "Never heard of him."
"What about him?" asked Lucia quietly.
"Succeeds Lord Brayton. Second cousin twice removed. Elizabeth and I used to go to the garden-parties at Brayton, when Lady Brayton was alive. Sweet woman. Gored by a mad bull."
Lucia sat for a minute longer after Aunt Cathie had announced the tragic end of the late Lady Brayton with such dramatic suddenness; but it was not that which occupied her mind, nor yet the question of French, or of Aunt Cathie's veiled contralto. How odd it was that this name should again be brought before her! Since Maud had spoken of him two days ago, in that intimate midnight talk, she had often thought of him, had recalled his appearance, his manner, his conversation with growing distinctness. And again now, as if a light had suddenly been turned up, his image became more vivid. Really Maud had chosen very well: an immense property, so Aunt Cathie had said, and a peerage, both exceedingly good things in themselves, and quite admirably suited the one to the other. She wondered if Maud had known all along that he would be possessed of such
