“So he is very rich? Of course, he would be. He was Mr. Trasmere’s only nephew.”
“You saw that in the newspaper?”
“No, I guessed, or somebody told me; I haven’t read any account of the murder, or any of the proceedings. I was too ill. He must be very rich,” she went on. “Is he anything like his uncle?”
Tab smiled.
“I can’t imagine two people more dissimilar,” he said. “Rex is—well, he’s rather stoutish,” he said loyally, “and a lazy old horse. Mr. Trasmere, on the contrary, was very thin, and, for his age, remarkably energetic. When did I mention Rex?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I can’t recall the time and place. Please don’t make me think, Mr. Holland. Where is Rex now?”
“He has gone to Italy. He sailed yesterday,” said Tab, and thereupon the girl’s interest in Rex Lander seeme
