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Updated: May 17, 2025
"You are talking of serious things, Miss Wendermott," Mr. Cuthbert said gravely. "Why not? Why shirk them? My father's death was a serious thing, wasn't it? I want an account of it from the only man who can render it." "When you disclose yourself to Mr. Trent I should say that he would willingly give you "
Then he nodded, hastily scrawled some dimensions on the margin of the little drawing and settled down again to work. "It'll do," he said. "Give it to Smith. Come back at eight to look at your proofs after I've done with them. Good interview! Good sketch! You'll do, Miss Wendermott." She went out laughing softly. This was quite the longest conversation she had ever had with the chief.
"Here, you've dropped your cigar, Trent." Trent groped for it on the ground with shaking fingers. "Writes for newspapers?" he repeated slowly. "I wonder her name isn't Davenant, is it?" The boy shook his head. "No, she's my mother's cousin really only I call her Aunty, we always got on so. She isn't really much older than me, her name is Wendermott Ernestine Wendermott.
Now this is the truth, Miss Wendermott, and if it is not a story I am particularly proud of, I don't very well see what else I could have done. It is my story and it is a true one. Will you believe it or will you take his word against mine?" She would have spoken, but Francis held up his hand. "My story," he said coolly, "has been told behind your back. It is only fair to repeat it to your face.
She actually sighed, and lost her appetite for the oyster patty with which she had been trifling. Trent looked around the table. "At the same time," he continued in a lower key, "I'll make a confession to you, Miss Wendermott, I wouldn't care to make to any one else here. I've been pretty lucky as you know, made money fast piled it up in fact.
Dear me, what a likeness!" "You mean to my father?" she asked quietly. "To your father, certainly, poor, dear old boy! You must excuse me, Miss Wendermott. Your father and I were at Eton together, and I think I may say that we were always something more than lawyer and client a good deal more, a good deal more! He was a fine fellow at heart a fine, dear fellow.
"I am Miss Wendermott," she said, coming forward. "I had a letter from you this morning; you wished to see me, I believe." Mr. Cuthbert dropped at once his eyeglass and his inquiring gaze, and held out his hand. "My dear Miss Wendermott," he said, "you must pardon the failing eyesight of an old man. To be sure you are, to be sure. Sit down, Miss Wendermott, if you please.
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