The two men stepped aside to prove that they were not meant by Farnsworth’s gesture. Farnsworth was referring to the prisoners as persons who had a claim they might not keep. But in stepping aside, Farnsworth’s two helpers revealed a huge coffer which they promptly opened.
The dull light of the grotto instantly gained a remarkable intensity from the glitter of the coffer’s contents. Gold and silver, lustrous though they were, seemed but a background to the brilliance of massed jewels that sparkled from the coffer’s midst.
This was the treasure from the brig Good Wind!
Farnsworth’s eye followed the circle of silent prisoners. His gaze finally focussed on Sylvia Selmore.
“You were proud of your Welsh ancestry,” Farnsworth told Sylvia. “You would have done better to think in terms of Dutch. You might have learned that you were a descendant of Thales Van Woort.”
From there, Farnsworth’s gaze took in Winslow Ames, Claude Older and finally Arlene Forster, each in turn, signifying that the same applied to them.
“You resemble your ancestors, all of you,” declared Farnsworth. “But none of you recognized your heritage. You should thank me for finding it for you and bringing you here to see it.”
This explained the pictures that Cranston had shown Phil, all from the Van Woort family album. Not the portraits of the persons present, but those of relatives that they resembled. There had been an added picture, one that looked like Phil’s own uncle. It explained what Farnsworth said next.
“One heir is missing,” Farnsworth declared. “I expect my other men to bring him here shortly. If they fail, it does not matter. The police will simply arrest Philip Harley for complicity in murder.”
Farnsworth pronounced the word “murder” coldly, but did not specify the victim. He postponed that information as his eyes met Thara’s. With a broad smile, Farnsworth bowed to the sleek-haired brunette.