“I shall never be a coward again!” Audrey said violently.
They read the will together. They had no difficulty at all in comprehending it now that they were alone.
“I do think it’s a horrid shame Aguilar should have that ten pounds,” said Audrey. “But otherwise I don’t care. You can’t guess how relieved I am, Winnie. I imagined the most dreadful things. I don’t know what I imagined. But now we shall have all the property and everything, just as much as ever there was, and only me and mother to spend it.” Audrey danced an embryonic jig. “Won’t I keep mother in order! Winnie, I shall make her go with me to Paris. I’ve always wanted to know that Madame Piriac—she does write such funny English in her letters.”
“What’s that you’re saying?” murmured Miss Ingate, who had picked up the letter which Mr. Cowl had laid on the small table.
“I say I shall make mother go to Paris with me.”
“You won’t,” said Miss Ingate. “Because she won’t go. I know your mother better than you do.... Oh! Audrey!”
Audrey saw Miss Ingate’s face turn scarlet from the roots of her hair to her chin.
Miss Ingate had dropped the letter. Audrey snatched it.
“My dear Moze,” the letter ran. “I send you herewith a report of the meeting of the Great Mexican Oil Company at New York. You will see that they duly authorised the contract by which the Zacatecas Oil Corporation transfers our property to them in exchange for shares at the rate of four Great Mexican shares for one Zacatecas share. As each of the Development Syndicate shares represents ten of the Corporation shares, and as on my recommendation you put £4,500 into the Syndicate, you will therefore own 180,000 Great Mexican shares. They are at present above par. Mark my words, they will be worth from seven to ten dollars apiece in a year’s time. I think you now owe me a good turn, eh?”
The letter was signed with a name unknown to either of them, and it was dated from Coleman Street, E.C.