Brent looked attentively at her as he took the hand which she held out to him. Seen at closer quarters he saw that she was a much prettier woman than he had fancied; he saw too that, whatever her tastes might be in the way of politics and sociology, she was wholly feminine, and not above enhancing her charms by punctilious attention to her general appearance and setting. She had been very quietly and even sombrely dressed at the inquest that morning, but she was now in evening dress, and her smart gown, her wealth of fair hair, her violet eyes, and the rose tint of her delicate cheek somewhat dazzled Brent, who was not greatly used to women's society. He felt a little shy and a little awkward. "Yes, yes, I came at once," he said. "I--of course, I gathered that you wanted me." Mrs. Saumarez smiled, and pointing to an easy chair in front of the bright fire dropped into another close by it. "Sit down, Mr. Brent," she said. "Yes, I wanted you. And I couldn't very well go to the _Chancellor_, could I? So thank you again for coming so promptly. Perhaps"--she turned and looked at him steadily--"you're already aware that your cousin and I were great friends?" "I've heard it," answered Brent. He nodded at one of the book-cases at which she had found him looking. "Similar tastes, I suppose? He was a great hand at that sort of thing." "Yes," she said. "We had a good deal in common; I was much interested in all his plans, and so on. He was a very clever man, a deeply interesting man, and I have felt--this--more than I'm going to say. And--but I think I'd better tell you why I sent for you." "Yes," assented Brent. "I gathered from what was said at the inquest this morning that you are your cousin's sole executor?" she asked. "I am," replied Brent. "Sole everything." "Then, of course, you have entire charge and custody of his papers?" she suggested. "That's so," answered Brent. "Everything's in my possession." Mrs. Saumarez sighed gently; it seemed to Brent that there was something of relief in the sigh. "Last autumn and winter," she continued presently, "I was away from home a long time; I was in the South of France. Mr. Wallingford and I kept up a regular, and frequent, correspondence: it was just then, you know, that he became Mayor, and began to formulate his schemes for the regeneration of this rotten little town----" "You think it's that, eh?" interrupted Brent, emphasizing the personal pronoun. "That's your conviction?" Mrs. Saumarez's violet eyes flashed, and a queer little smile played for a second round the corner of her pretty lips. "Rotten to the core!" she said quietly. "Ripe rotten! _He_ knew it!--knew more than he ever let anyone know!" "More than he ever let you know?" asked Brent. "I knew a good deal," she replied evasively. "But this correspondence. We wrote to each other twice a week all the time I was away. I have all his letters--there, in that safe." "Yes?" said Brent.