"Brott!" he repeated. "Brott! It is a singular name."
CHAPTER XI
So this was the man! Mr. Sabin did not neglect his luncheon, nor
was he ever for a moment unmindful of the grey-headed princess who
chatted away by his side with all the vivacity of her race and sex.
But he watched Mr. Brott.
A man this! Mr. Sabin was a judge, and he appraised him rightly.
He saw through that courteous geniality of tone and gesture; the
ready-made smile, although it seemed natural enough, did not
deceive him. Underneath was a man of iron, square-jawed, nervous,
forceful. Mr. Brott was probably at that time the ablest
politician of either party in the country. Mr. Sabin knew it.
He found himself wondering exactly at what point of their lives
this man and he would come into contact.
After luncheon Helene brought them together.
"I believe," she said to Mr. Brott, "that you have never met my
UNCLE. May I make you formally acquainted? UNCLE, this is Mr.
Brott, whom you must know a great deal about even though you have
been away for so long--the Duc de Souspennier."
The two men bowed and Helene passed on. Mr. Sabin leaned upon his
stick and watched keenly for any sign in the other's face. If he
expected to find it he was disappointed. Either this man had no
knowledge of who he was, or those things which were to come between
them were as yet unborn.
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