“It will have to be surrendered now, and a new one made,” anxiously said the excited millionaire.
“We owe safety to our living associates, and perfect faith to our allied friends of the Sugar Syndicate.”
“Perhaps as Mrs. Willoughby was a close friend of Garston’s she may know some of the details of his early life. I wish that you would have her guide me. Go and see her. I am in practical charge of the funeral, and so shall be very busy.”
“What can she know?” demanded the old lawyer.
“I’m told by the Trust Company’s man that he has left half of his great fortune to a young ward of Mrs. Willoughby’s—some young girl.” There was a tinkling sound of breakage.
Alynton gazed curiously at the old Judge as he slowly picked up the fragments of his shattered eyeglasses.
“You are right. Do nothing till you hear from me. I will go to her, and come to you at the Waldorf,” said the startled lawyer. “She should know of this at once.”
“Thank God! He knows nothing of Garston’s mad pursuit of Elaine in marriage and his schemes about her child. He even thinks them friends. Better so. But, the girl must return at once. Death has made her way smooth.” And Endicott went sighing on his way.
Telephoning for Hugh Conyers, the old advocate hastened to the “Circassia” to a conference with the white-faced invalid who burst into a storm of tears when Endicott told her the story of the strange legacy.
“Let Hugh cable at once to Stockholm. Have them come back here by Havre, without a moment’s delay. Let him sign all three of our names, and let him also send a separate cable to Sara that Romaine is to know nothing of the death, and not a word as yet, of this strange legacy. I will inform her of that myself,” she sobbed. “It is all so strange, so ghastly,” she murmured.