‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. . . ” “Thanks for the nice evening, John. She is English! I am sure of that. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it.
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