Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/332

312 "But why should your own uncles think you were dead, when you seem to be so very much alive?"

"I think I would be dead, if a few of those people had their own way about it!" was her morose comment on that question of mine.

"And you include Wendy Washburn in that circle?" I asked.

"He's worse than any of the rest of them!" was her spirited retort.

"Is he—in any way related to you?" I inquired, remembering certain things.

"In more ways than one, unfortunately."

"But how?" I persisted.

"He happens to be my cousin, in the first place."

This gave me still a second shock to digest.

"Go on," I prompted.

"And when mother died in Florence, three years ago, he was made my guardian-at-law."

"Wendy Washburn was?" I incredulously demanded.

"It does seem absurd, doesn't it?" said the morose-eyed girl. "But it's true."

"And you know, you even acknowledge, that he's the worst of the lot?"

"You'd agree with me, if you knew him as I do!" was her retort.