“The General’s two most intimate friends were killed about two months after his death, and his servant died in the same action—­probably before Sir David himself.  I have tried to find out if he had any talk on his own affairs with friends on board ship going out, but it seems not.  I can show you the list of those who went out with him.”

Sir Edmund knew something of most people and after studying the list he went to look up an old soldier friend at the Army and Navy Club.  Indeed, for some weeks he was often to be seen there, and he was as attentive to Generals as an anxious parent seeking advancement in the Army for an only son.  He soon became discouraged as to obtaining any information regarding David’s later years, but some gossip on his younger days he did glean.  Nothing could have been better than David’s record; he seemed to have been a paragon of virtue.

“That’s what made it all the more strange that he should have fallen into the hands of Mrs. Johnny Dexter,” mused an old Colonel as he puffed at one of Grosse’s most admirable cigars.  “Poor old David; he was wax in her hands for a few weeks, then he got fever and recovered from her and from it at the same time—­he went home soon after.  He’d have done anything for her at one moment.”

This Colonel might well have been flattered by Edmund’s attentions; but he gave little in return for them except what he said that day.

“Mrs. Johnny Dexter!  Why, I’m sure I have known Dexters,” thought Edmund, as he strolled down Pall Mall after this conversation.  He stopped to think, regardless of public observation.  “Why, of course, that old bore Lady Dawning was a Miss Dexter.  I’ll go and see her this very day.”

Lady Dawning was gratified at Sir Edmund’s visit, and was nearly as much surprised at seeing him as he was at finding himself in the handsome, heavily-furnished room in Princes Gate.  Stout, over fifty, and clumsily wigged, it rarely enough happened to Lady Dawning to find not only a sympathetic listener but an eager inquirer into those romantic days when love’s young dream for her cousin Johnny Dexter was stifled by parental authority:  “And it all ended in my becoming Lady Dawning.”  A sigh of satisfaction concluded the episode of romance, and led the way back to the present day.

When Lady Dawning had advised Mrs. Carteret to keep poor dear Johnny’s girl quietly in the country, she had by no means intended to let any of her friends know anything about Molly.  She had looked important and mysterious when people spoke of Sir David Bright’s amazing will, but she made a real sacrifice to Johnny’s memory by not divulging her knowledge of facts or her own conclusions from those facts.  But the enjoyment of talking of her own romantic youth to Edmund had had a softening effect.

Sir Edmund appeared to be so very wise and safe.