“What!” exclaimed Kitty. “Are you sure?”
“And therefore,” went on Mitchell, paying no attention to her interruption. “Leigh Wallace must be a relation of yours.”
“I suppose so,” Kitty admitted thoughtfully. “But why had Leigh never told me that we are related? He has never spoken of being a nephew of Uncle Marcus.”
“Nor of inheriting the old colonel’s fortune?”
“Fortune?” Kitty looked blank. “Why, I have always understood that Major Wallace had only his pay. I never knew that he was wealthy.”
“His fortune disappeared, the way fortunes have when dissipated away,” Mitchell was watching her like a lynx, but her expression of friendly interest conveyed that and nothing more. The mention of Leigh Wallace’s name had not produced the result he had hoped for. Kitty’s composure had not been shaken. Could it be that she was not in love with him, as rumor reported? Mitchell frowned. He was not making headway.
“Have you ever heard of the Holt will contest in San Francisco?” he asked, after a brief pause.
“Only in a general way. Aunt Susan spoke of it once or twice.” Kitty settled back in her chair again. “She never evinced any particular interest in Uncle Marcus, and he on his part ignored our existence. To go back to ancient history—” Kitty’s smile was a trifle mischievous; keeping Inspector Mitchell discussing harmless topics would prevent his harping upon her aunt’s death, and perhaps would hasten his departure—“Uncle Marcus objected to mother marrying my father, and naturally Aunt Susan resented the fact that her brother was unwelcome to his wife’s family.”
“So she nursed a grudge against them, did she?”
“Oh, no; she simply had nothing to do with them.”