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“I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold.
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