The matter of the mother was fresh between them. “I have been paid, as any one else, for my services,” he answered.
She drew her hand back.
The books were a clear record of what had been done year by year.
“Cowan Steamboat Mortgage,” read Alexina from a page of early entries. “What was that?”
“A mortgage held for you on a boat built at the Cowan shipyards.”
“What was the name of the boat?” Alexina’s voice sounded suddenly strained and odd.
“The ‘King William,’” said Austen. “The boat never paid for itself, and the mortgage was foreclosed and the boat sold.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed with curious intentness. As she listened she pushed her hair back with the hand propping her head as if its weight oppressed her. “And then?” she asked. “Here are more entries.”
“I bought the boat in at a figure a little over the mortgage; river affairs were down. Later, a couple of years—you’ll find it there—the boat sold for double the price.”
She closed the book. “That’s enough, I believe,” she said, “for one evening.” But it is doubtful if he was at all aware of anything strange in her tone.