"Of course, Mr. Bellowes," assented Hugh. "I remember you very well. This is my friend, Mr. Nash. Mr. Zaranko, I take it, you already know. Are you at liberty?"
"Surely, sir. I expected you. This way, please."
And he ushered us into a room where chairs were clustered about a square table on which reposed a huge, steel-bound box of very heavy, dark oak. Mr. Bellowes waved his hand toward the box.
"I trust I anticipated your lordship's wishes. I directed the bank to send up the Charter Chest this afternoon."
"Quite right," said Hugh, "it will simplify our task. Did my uncle leave any will?"
A shadow settled upon Mr. Bellowes' lined face.
"There was no need, your lordship. The estate is entailed. The Shipping Bonds, your grandmother's dower, went before the war. The mining shares all have been sold, as well as several smaller blocks of securities. Aside from some insurance accruing from your uncle's demise, there is practically nothing—oh, a few government bonds of the war issues, to be sure—outside of the Chesby lands."
He wrung his hands nervously.
"Oh, Mister Hugh—I beg your pardon, your lordship—I don't know what we shall have to do. The death duties can scarcely be met. The insurance will help some, but I am afraid we must raise another mortgage at a ruinous rate or else move to break the entail and sell off some of the farms. I warned his late lordship again and again of the harm he was doing, but he would never listen to me."
"Poor Uncle James has paid a stiff price for his efforts," answered Hugh. "I can't find it in my heart to take exception to his extravagances after what happened in New York."