As mercifully as he could Ned told her of the encounter with the derelict and what had been found on board it. As the others watched her they conceived an intense admiration for this young South American. She heard Ned out bravely, though her lip quivered at this confirmation of her worst fears.
“Alas, for my poor mother!” she exclaimed, as Ned finished, “this will be terrible intelligence for her. She has hoped against hope, even though my uncle told her that it was certain we should never see my father again.”
“You live near here?” inquired the midshipman.
“Yes—that is, our plantation is four or five miles away. I rode straight from there after I had left the villa. But why do I say ‘our’ plantation when it is, in fact, my uncle’s?”
“But it belonged to your father?” asked Ned.
“That is true. But your confirmation of his death will strengthen the claim of General de Guzman upon it. You see, under our law, the property goes to him.”
“But not if there is a will expressly deeding it elsewhere?”
“Ah, no, senor, but there is not one. My poor father fled from the country disguised as a common sailor before he had even time to make provision for us. There is a suspicion that my uncle betrayed him.”
“I think you are mistaken,” said Ned gently. “There is a will, and I know its whereabouts. The document is now in possession of Lieutenant Timmons, of the United States torpedo-boat destroyer Beale. But he will surrender the document to your mother or yourself upon your application.”