CHAPTER XX.
When the interview with Austin Turold did take place, Mr.Brimsdown learnt with a feeling which was little less than astonishment that Robert Turold had died without confiding to his brother the proofs, on which so much depended, of the statement he had made on the day of his death.
"I cannot understand it," he murmured, putting down his tea-cup as he spoke.
Austin had received him in the blue sitting-room, hung with the specimens of Mr.Brierly's ineffectual art, and had given him tea, as he had given Barrant tea some days before.

But there was a subtle difference in the manner of Mr.Brimsdown's reception; the tone was pitched higher, with fine shades and inflections attuned for a more gentlemanly ear.
"It disposes of the suicide theory finally and utterly," added the lawyer thoughtfully.
"The suicide theory disappeared with Robert's daughter," said Austin, glancing at his son, who had taken no part in the conversation.
"You think her disappearance suggests guilt ?" asked Mr.Brimsdown.
"It hardly suggests innocence, does it ?" "I would not like to hazard an opinion," responded Mr.Brimsdown, with a thoughtful shake of the head.

"My experience of women is that they are capable of the strangest acts without weighing the consequences." "That was before the war, when women were delightfully irrational creatures, but now they're no longer so.

They've become practical and coarse, like men.

They smoke, drink, and tell improper stories with demure expression and heads a little on one side like overwise sparrows." "Was Robert Turold's daughter a girl of this sort ?" asked the lawyer in surprise.
"She was not." It was Charles Turold who made answer, with an angry glance at his father.
Austin, looking at him, gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head.
Slight as the warning was, it was intercepted by Mr.Brimsdown's watchful eye, and he wondered what it meant.
"I do not think any useful purpose can be gained by discussing my brother's death," Austin interposed, turning to him.