“Then,” she said, “the Casa d’Erraha never belonged to my father?”
“Never”--with a grave bow.
“And I have nothing--nothing at all! I am penniless?”
The lawyer looked from her to Fitz, who was standing beside her listening to the conversation, but not offering to take part in it.
“Unless your excellency has private means--in England, perhaps.”
“I do not know--I know nothing. And we must leave the Casa d’Erraha. When, señor? Tell me when.”
The lawyer avoided her distressed eyes.
“Well,” he said slowly, “the law is rather summary. I--your excellency understands I only do my duty. I am not the principal. I have no authority whatever--except the law.”
“You mean that I must go at once?”
The lawyer’s parchment face was generously expressive of grief now.