“My dear young leddy, anything but! Let me assure you she spends far too much on charity. Far too much.”
“She let her ‘only son’ have a fearful struggle for years and years when she could have helped him, and never missed the money. She let the Mills for which he had worked so hard slip through his fingers at the last moment.”
Mr. Russell was amazed.
“She sent him large sums of money regularly. I've seen his letters thanking her for the sums sent and asking for more and always getting it. Aye, always getting it. As for the last thousand pounds, he only asked for one thousand. I know what I am speaking of. The Chief Inspector could have told you the same.”
Christine was bewildered. So bewildered that she held her tongue.
“Did you ever see the letters Robert Erskine wrote. I mean see them yourself?”
No, Christine had to acknowledge that she never had.
“Or any of Mrs. Erskine's letters to him?”
Christine had again to acknowledge that she never had seen one.
Mr. Russell nodded his head. “Just so. Just as I thought. Mrs. Erskine is a quiet, still woman. You might think her hard if you didn't know what lies behind her manner. My father could tell you of case after case of charity and goodness which he found out, after she had left Perth, of which she never spoke. She's not one to wear her heart on her sleeve, like all her family now dead and gone, but it's a heart of gold.”