She remembered Bream
Mortimer. He was the son of the Mr. Mortimer who was the friend of the
Mr. Bennett who wanted Windles. This visit could only have to do with
the subject of Windles, and she went into the dining-room in a state of
cold fury, determined to squash the Mortimer family once and for all.
Bream Mortimer was tall and thin. He had small, bright eyes and a
sharply curving nose. He looked much more like a parrot than most
parrots do. It gave strangers a momentary shock of surprise when they
saw Bream Mortimer in restaurants eating roast beef. They had the
feeling that he would have preferred sun-flower seeds.
"Morning, Mrs. Hignett."
"Please sit down."
Bream Mortimer sat down. He looked as though he would rather have
hopped on to a perch, but he sat down. He glanced about the room with
gleaming, excited eyes.
"Mrs. Hignett, I must have a word with you alone!"
"You _are_ having a word with me alone."
"I hardly know how to begin."
"Then let me help you. It is quite impossible.
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