“Ursula Ardfern,” Tab woke with the words on his lips. The hour was eleven and Rex had been out and was back again.
“L’ami de mon oncle has been—did you hear him?” asked Rex, stopping his towel-encompassed companion on his way to the bath-room.
“Who—Bonaparte?”
“Wellington is his name, I believe. Yes, he came rather subdued and apologetic, but full of horrific threats toward Uncle Jesse. I turned him out.”
“Why did he come?”
Rex Lander shook his head.
“Heaven knows! Unless it was that he simply had to find somebody who knew uncle well enough to be interested in hearing him curse the old man. I’ve persuaded him to leave town until the end of next week. But I must say that I was impressed by the brute’s threats. He says he will kill Uncle Jesse unless he makes reparation.”
“Twiff!” sa
