"There is a possibility of that. I will give you the address of your father's solicitors. Go and see them and hear the truth."
"Shouldn't they have been in touch with me if this were true?"
"Yes. Perhaps they have been looking for you. It was only since there was this publicity in the papers that it was known where you were."
"My mother went to her mother and then I went to a cousin of hers when she died. I shouldn't have been so very difficult to find."
"It may be that they are looking for you. It's only just a year since your father died and mills of the law—like those of God—grind slowly."
"Well, I am quite bewildered."
"You must be to find yourself such an heiress."
"It is not that so much . . . although I have yet to consider what it will mean. It is the fact that I knew nothing. . . ."
He looked at me covertly. "Perhaps Jago had his reasons for not telling."
I felt myself flushing. I was seeing Jago on the Sanctuary Island and remembering the manner in which he had kissed me. Why, of course he wanted to marry me! The Island would be mine, and I fancied he loved the Island with a passion he might not be able to give to anything—or anyone—else.
My chief feeling was one of hurt bewilderment. But the scene was falling into place. How wise had I been to come to Mr. Fenwick. He was telling me too much for my comfort.
"Your father was generous to me," he said. "He left me enough money to live on in comfort for the rest of my life. It is not settled yet—these things take so long; but I had savings of my own and I bought a market garden which was a going concern. But I realized it was not the life for me, so I quickly sold it at a profit and bought this place."
"You have settled down very quickly in a short time."
He had risen and gone to a bureau in the corner of the room. He sat down at this and wrote on a piece of paper, which he handed to me. On it was written "Merry, Fair and Dunn"; and there was an address.
"Your father's solicitors," he said. "Why don't you pay them a call. They will be delighted to see you if they have been trying to contact you, which they must have been since you are the main beneficiary of your father's will. They will confirm—or deny—all that I have told you. All I can say is that your father discussed his intentions very thoroughly with me and I remember the representative of Merry, Fair and Dunn calling at the castle. That was about a year before he died."
"How strange that, having made such a will, he made no attempt to find me."
"He said he didn't want his life complicated at that stage."
"And when did Silva disappear?"
"Only a few months before his death."
"Didn't he care that she had gone?"
"He didn't express an opinion."
"How cruel he was to her!"
"Remember—she always reminded him of her mother's unfaithfulness. Perhaps if she had been a different child, more attractive, more normal, he might not have disliked her so much, but he often asked me why he should bother with her and once he said that only the fear of scandal made him keep her at the castle."
"Did Silva know that he doubted she was his daughter?"
"I don't think so. Few people did. I knew because he confided in me a great deal. He was too proud to speak of his doubts to anyone."
"I wish she were here now. I should so much have liked to know her."
"She was wild always. Once she threatened to throw herself down from the top of the castle tower. The governess of the moment said: 'All right. Do it.' And that made her change her mind. So no one took her threats seriously after that. I think she probably went out in that boat as a gesture, hoping to alarm people, and that it got out of hand. You can't play tricks like that with the sea."
"And her body was never found, though the boat was washed up."
"She was obviously drowned."
"It's strange that her body wasn't washed up somewhere."
"It doesn't always happen. There must be hundreds of people whose bodies have never been found."
"What a sad, tragic life! It is indeed a case of the sins of the parents being visited on the children. I am so grateful to you, Mr. Fenwick. You have told me so much more than I could have hoped to discover."
"It's information which you should know. But with regard to the will, you must see the solicitors whose name I have given you. As a beneficiary I was not present when the will was signed, but I feel sure that your father told me of his true intentions."
I said I would go to the solicitors that day if it were possible and when Michael returned and I showed him the address he said he would take me there right away. The small town in which the offices were situated was only a few miles out of our way and Michael knew the quickest route.
And so in the offices of Merry, Fair and Dunn, I learned that I was indeed the heiress to a considerable fortune which I should inherit when I was twenty-one and until that day this was held in trust, and that Jago Kellaway had the power to manage the Island estate and that my father had strongly advised me to allow him to continue to do so.
There was something else. It was true that in the event of my death without heirs, Silva Kellaway was to inherit the Island.
Since she was undoubtedly dead, it was explained to me Jago Kellaway was the next in the line of succession
