"There is a man in the kitchen," said she, after an apology for the general disorder of things, and for the whiting which were but indifferently cooked. "James, you know, and when he is in the kitchen whilst meals are being prepared Susannah loses her head and often spoils things. Father generally sends him out to dig in the garden whilst she is cooking. I didn't send him to-day because he won't take orders from me, only from father. He says a man cannot serve two masters; he is always making proverbs and things, his father was a stationer and he has written poetry. He might have been anything only for his wife, he told me so the other night. It _does_ seem such a pity." "Yes," said Charles tentatively, wondering who "James, you know" might be. "What is he?" "He's in the law," said Miss Lambert cautiously, then after a moment's hesitation, "I don't see why I shouldn't tell you, you are our cousin. Father had a debt and----" "You don't mean to say he's----" "Yes, he has come to take possession as they call it." Mr Bevan laid down his knife and fork. "Good gracious!" "I never cried so much as when he came," said Fanny, stroking the head of Boy-Boy, who was resting beside her; "it seemed so terrible. I never knew what a comfort he would turn out; he fetches the coals for Susannah and pumps the water. It sounds strange to say it, but I don't know what we should do without him now." "Oh, you poor child," thought Charles, "how much you must have suffered at the hands of that pig-headed fool of a father of yours--to think of a good estate coming to this!" "Tell me," he said aloud, "how long has that man been here?" "A week," said Fanny, "but it seems a year." "Who--er--put him in." "A Mr Isaacs." "What was the debt for, Cousin Fanny?" "We went to Paris." "I don't----" "I wanted to go to Paris, and father said I should, but he would have to think first about the money. Then he went into the library, and took me on his knee, and smoked a pipe. He always gets money when he sits and has what he calls a 'good think' and smokes a pipe. So he got the money and we went to Paris. We had a lovely time!" "And then," said Bevan with an expression on his face as if he were listening to a fairy tale which he _had_ to believe, "I suppose Mr Isaacs applied for his money?" "He sent most impertinent letters," said Fanny, "and I told father not to mind them, then James came." Mr Bevan went on with his luncheon, all his anger against his cousin, George Lambert, had vanished. Anger is impossible to a sane mind when the object of that anger turns out to be a lunatic. He went on with his luncheon; though the whiting were indifferently cooked, the champagne was excellent, and his hostess exquisite. It was hard to tell which was more attractive, her face or her voice, for the voice of Miss Lambert was one of those fatal voices that we hear perhaps twice in a lifetime, and never forget, perfectly modulated golden, soothing--maddening. CHAPTER IX