"Castle!" Charlotte became suddenly alert.
"Ah, I see the name is not unfamiliar to you; but let me finish. The property mortgaged, among other parcels of realty, included your old family homestead. Of course the mortgager was your father. Now, with the name of John S. Castle to guide us through the index to the mortgage records, we find the next item of interest just three years later—namely, in November, eighteen sixty-two—when the mortgage was renewed. In another three years—that is, in November sixty-five—it was again renewed; then, in November, eighteen sixty-eight, an assignment of mortgage was filed, transferring this particular one to William Slade, senior, your old overseer. Here John S. Castle disappears for good and all; what followed concerning the mortgage is irrelevant; but the point I wish to make is, that the name John S. Castle is the English equivalent of Juan S. Castillo. This is the fourth reason why Vargas interests me. I have been unable to find any other trace of Castle. And now, can all this be mere coincidence?
"My next question to you is: Have you any knowledge of Castle, or Slade, or is there any event in your family history that may by any chance throw light into these dark places? Or could either your mother or Mr. Clay do so?"
"Mr. Converse, this is all so marvellous that I am a little bewildered. I never should have imagined that these dreadful tragedies could involve so much. How ever in the world did you discover so many details? But I am unable to tell you much. As to mamma, I cannot say. Her memory, of course—such as it is, Mr. Converse—goes back farther than mine. But Clay—I am certain he could be of no assistance; he is always impatient of dwelling upon our more prosperous days; mamma, at times, is rather inclined to—to—well, to contrast our present circumstances with what they were before papa died, and Clay invariably leaves the room on such occasions. John S. Castle was always considered a fiction in our family, behind which the elder Slade masked his treachery; or, perhaps, it is more exact to say that he came to be regarded as a fiction. It is very certain that he never appeared at all. Slade, senior, in his younger days was of a roving disposition. During the Mexican War he enlisted in the army, I believe, and was with General Scott in Mexico. He learned to speak the Spanish language, I know; and that might explain John S. Castle; they actually may have met in Mexico."
"That is true; it may be merely one more of the coincidences, signifying nothing at all. But I am not of a disposition to dismiss them thus." He fell into a thoughtful silence, from which he roused himself presently to say:
"It has occurred to me, Miss Fairchild,—to digress a moment,—that all these details of the man Castle, and the manner in which his name was utilized by the elder Slade, might hide some sort of chicanery. Everything about that old mortgage may not have been perfectly straight and aboveboard; and if that is the case—why, there is no telling what interest may be due you out of the property. Some of it is very valuable now, and the matter is worth looking into."
"Indeed?" returned Charlotte, without interest. "To find a fortune for us would be a strange ending of a search for the assassin of a man so completely a stranger."
"Oh, I merely mentioned it as a result of my delving into musty records. I do not wish to inspire any hopes that may be disappointed."
"Truly," with more warmth, "I thank you. My lack of enthusiasm arose from the impossibility of inspiring any such hope at all. I shall tell Clay, though, what you have just told me. Should we be entitled to any such interest, he would assuredly exert an effort to regain it."
He bowed a dismissal of the topic.