THE AMERICAN
with him, as I told you, in his last hour. He was in a great deal of pain, but he was quite himself. You know what that means; he was bright and charming and clever."
"Oh, he 'd always be clever, sir," said Mrs. Bread. "And did he know of your trouble?"
"Yes, he guessed it of himself."
"And what did he say to it?"
"He said it was a disgrace to his name—but it was not the first."
"Lord, Lord!" she murmured.
"He said his mother and his brother had once put their heads together to some still more odious effect."
"You should n't have listened to that, sir."
"Perhaps not. But I did listen, and I don't forget it. Now I want to know what it is they did."
Mrs. Bread gave a soft moan. "And you've enticed me up into this strange place to tell you?"
"Don't be alarmed," said Newman. "I won't say a word that shall be disagreeable to you. Tell me as it suits you—and tell me when it suits you. Only remember that it was the Count's dying wish that you should."
"Did he say that?"
"He said it with his last breath: 'Tell Mrs. Bread I told you to ask her.'"
"Why did n't he tell you himself?"
"It was too long a story for a dying man; he was incapable of the effort and the pain. He could only say that he wanted me to know—that, wronged as I was, it was my right to know."
"But how will it help you, sir?" she asked.
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