"I am not suggesting such a
thing! I know how impossible that would be. But on my own responsibility
I have made investigations and I have ascertained that your husband's
nephew has the one child. The nephew's an artist of sorts and doubtless
has his ups and downs--most artists do. Now I suggest--"
"That I take this--child--"
Mr. Allendyce tactfully ignored the scorn in her voice. "Exactly," he
purred. "Exactly. Gordon is the child's name. A very nice name, I am
sure."
"The child of an obscure artist--"
"Ah, but, Madame, blood is blood. A Forsyth--"
"P'ff!" Madame made a sound like rock hitting rock. Indeed, as she sat
there, her narrow eyes gleaming from her immobile face, her thin lips
tightly compressed, she looked much more like rock than flesh-and-blood.
Her explosion had the effect of exasperating the little lawyer out of
his habitual attitude of conciliation.
"Madame, I can do no more than advise you in this matter. I have traced
down this child as a possible heir to the Forsyth fortune. However, you
have it in your power to will otherwise. But let me say this--not as a
lawyer but as your friend.
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