"You don't know, then, that he is dead?"
"I know nothing except what my father has told me. He remained what he called 'true to his art' to the end of his life, and never forgave his brother for turning his back on it."
"Pardon my putting to you a somewhat delicate question. Did your father make much money by his painting?"
"Much money!" The girl's lip curled. "When he died there was just enough left to keep my mother till she died."
"And then?"
"I came to London in search of fortune."
"And found it?"
"Do I look as if I had-in this attic, which contains all that I have in the world? No; fortune does not come to such as I am. I should be tolerably content if I were sure of daily bread. But why do you ask such questions? Why do you pry into my private affairs? I am not conscious of a desire to thrust them on your notice-or on anyone's."
"Miss Arnott, I beg that you will not suppose that I am actuated by common curiosity. Let me explain the situation in half-a-dozen words. Your Uncle Septimus, after he left your father, went to South America. There, after divers adventures, he went in for cattle breeding. In that pursuit he amassed one of those large fortunes which are characteristic of modern times. Eventually he came to England, bought a property, settled himself on it, and there died. We acted as his legal advisers. He left his whole property to his brother Sextus; or, in the event of his brother predeceasing him, to his brother's children. You must understand that he himself lived and died a bachelor. His own death occurred three years ago."
"My father also died three years ago-on the 18th of March."
"This is very remarkable, Miss Arnott; they must have died on the same day!"
"My father died at five minutes to six in the evening. His last words were, 'Well, Septimus.' My mother and I, who were at his bedside, wondered why he had said it- which he did so plainly that we both turned round to see if anyone had come into the room. Until then he had not mentioned his brother's name for a long time."
"Miss Arnott, this is more and more remarkable; quite apart from any legal proof there can be no sort of doubt that you are the person we are seeking. It happened that I was present at your uncle's deathbed-partly as a friend and partly as his professional adviser. For I should tell you that he was a very lonely man. He seemed to have no friends, and was chary of making acquaintances; in that great house he lived the life of a lonely recluse. He died just as the clock was striking six; and just before he died he sat up in bed, held out his hand, and exclaimed in quite his old, hearty voice, 'Hullo, Sextus.' No one there knew to what the reference was made; but from what you say it would almost appear as if their spirits were already meeting." Mr Stacey blew his nose as if all at once conscious that they were touching a subject which was not strictly professional. "Before entering further into matters, I presume that-merely for form's sake-you are in a position to prove, Miss Arnott, that you are you."
"Certainly, I can do that, to some extent, at once." She took an envelope from a shabby old handbag; from the envelope some papers. "This is my mother's marriage certificate; this is the certificate of my own birth; this-" the paper of which she had taken hold chanced to be a copy of the document which certified that a marriage had taken place between Robert Champion, bachelor, and Violet Arnott, spinster. For the moment she had forgotten its existence. When she recognised what it was her heart seemed to sink in her bosom; her voice trembled; it was only with an effort that she was able to keep herself from handing it to the man of law in front of her. "No," she stammered, "that's the wrong paper." Just in time she drew it back. If he had only had one glance at it the whole course of her life would have been different. She went on, with as complete a show of calmness as she was capable of, "This is the paper I meant to give you-it is a copy of the certificate of my father's death; and this is a copy of my mother's. They are both buried in the same grave in the cemetery at Scarsdale."
He took the papers she passed to him, seemingly unconscious that there was anything curious in her manner. That other paper, crumpling it up, she slipped between the buttons of her bodice. He looked through the documents she had given him.
"They appear to be perfectly in order-perfectly in order, and I have no doubt that on investigation they will be ascertained to be. By the way, Miss Arnott, I notice that you were born just one-and-twenty years ago."
"Yes; my twenty-first birthday was on the 9th of last month-five weeks ago."
She did not think it necessary to mention that the memory of it would be with her for ever, since it had been celebrated by the arrest of her husband.
"Five weeks ago? A pity that it couldn't have been next month instead of last; then the date of your coming of age might have been made a great occasion. However, it shall still be to you a memorable year. You will, of course, understand that there are certain forms which must be gone through; but I don't think I am premature in expressing to you my personal conviction that you are the person who is intended to benefit under the will of the late Mr Septimus Arnott. Your uncle was one of our multi-millionaires. I cannot, at this moment, state the exact value of his estate; but this I can inform you-that your income will be considerably over one hundred thousand pounds a year."
"One hundred thousand pounds a year!" She gripped, with her right hand, the back of the room's one chair. "Do you mean it?"
"Beyond the shadow of a doubt. I am free to admit that I am fond of a jest; but a fortune of that magnitude is not a fit subject for a joke. Believe me, you will find it a serious matter when you come to be directly responsible for its administration."
"It seems a large sum of money."
He observed her a little curiously; she showed so few signs of emotion, none of elation. In her position, at her age, on receipt of such news, one would have looked for her cheeks to flush, for her lips to be parted by a smile, for a new brightness to come into her eyes-for these things at least. So far as he was able to perceive, not the slightest change took place in her bearing, her manner, her appearance; except that perhaps she became a little paler. The communication he had just made might have been of interest to a third party, but of none to her, so striking was the suggestion of indifference which her demeanour conveyed.
He decided that the explanation was that as yet she was incapable of realising her own good fortune.
"Seems a large sum? It is a large sum! How large I lack words to enable you to clearly comprehend. When we talk of millions we speak of figures anything like the full meaning of which the ordinary imagination is altogether incapable to grasp. I think, Miss Arnott, that some time will probably elapse vast is the responsibility which is about to be placed upon you. In the meantime I would make two remarks-first, that until matters are placed in regular order I shall be happy to place at your disposition any amount of ready cash you may require; and second, that until everything is arranged, Mrs Stacey and myself will be only too glad to extend to you our hospitality at Pembridge Gardens."
"I think, if you don't mind, I should like to remain here at anyrate to-night. I shall have a great many things to consider; I should prefer to do so alone. If you wish it I will call on you in the morning at your offices, and then we will go into everything more fully."
"Very good. As you choose, Miss Arnott. It is for you to command, for me to obey. You are your own mistress in a sense, and to a degree which I fancy you don't at present understand. I took the precaution to provide myself, before leaving home, with a certain amount of ready money. Permit me to place at your service this hundred pounds; you will find that there are twenty five-pound notes. I need scarcely add that the money is your own property. Now as to to-morrow. We have had so much difficulty in finding you, and it is by such a seeming miracle that we have lighted on you at last, that I am reluctant to lose sight of you even for a single night-until, that is, everything is in due order, and you have happily released us from the great weight