"Have you any other relations?" "So far as I know only an aunt, his sister. I have never seen her--I don't think they have been on good terms; I don't know her address; I believe she lives abroad." "Had your mother no relations?" "I cannot tell you; I know nothing of my mother--she died when I was born. I have been wondering if what he wishes to say is that, if--if the worst comes, he would like to be buried in her grave. I don't know where her grave is; he has never spoken of her to me." The doctor continued to eye her intently. He had a clever face, with a whimsical mouth, which seemed to be a little on one side; his eyes were deep-set, and were surrounded by a thick thatch of iron-grey hair. "How old are you?" "I shall be twenty in June." "That's a ripe age." She sighed. "I feel as if I were a hundred." "You don't look it; however, that's by the way. At such a time as this, Miss Lindsay, you ought not to be alone in this great house, with all the weight upon your shoulders." "I'm not alone; Elaine is with me." "Yes; and she--is even older than you." "Elaine is twenty-four." "I don't doubt it. If you're a hundred I should say that she is a thousand." "What do you mean?" "Nothing." But she felt that he had meant something; she wondered what. He went on. "What I intended to remark was that I think you ought to have some one with you who would give proper attention to your interests. As it is, you are practically at the mercy of a lot of servants and--and others. Hasn't your father an old friend, in whom you yourself have confidence--a business friend? By the way, who is his man of business--his lawyer?" She shook her head. "If father has any friends I don't know them. He has never been very sociable with anybody about here; I can't say what old acquaintances he may have had elsewhere. As you are probably aware, he was frequently away." "Did you never go with him?" "Never--never once. I have never been with my father anywhere out of this immediate neighbourhood, except when I first went to school, when he escorted me." "But you always knew where he was?" "Sometimes; not always." "Had he an address in town?" "Only his club, so far as I know." "Which was his club?" "The Carlton." "That sounds good enough. Did you use to write to him there?" "Not often; he only liked me to write to him when I had something of importance to say. He cared neither for reading nor for writing letters. He once told me that there were a lot of women who seemed to have nothing better to do than waste their own and other people's time by scribbling a lot of nonsense, which they cut up into lengths, sent through the post, and called letters. He hoped I should never become one of them. I remembered what he said, and never troubled him with one of the 'lengths' called letters if I could help it." Both of them smiled; only the doctor's was a whimsical smile, and hers was hardly suggestive of mirth. "You haven't told me who his lawyer is."