It bore the post-mark of Monaco. He tore it open and read with amazement the following:
“My dear Cousin:
“You will no doubt be surprised at this manner of address, but various things have led me to conclude that the above relationship exists between us.
“My uncle was Gilbert Kildair, the well-known artist, who, I find according to the records of the Municipality of Menton, was duly married to Lucia Fontana on the nineteenth of October, 1898.
“After his death she went to England to see if his family would not do something for her and her son; but they had quarrelled with him and refused to recognize her as his wife.
“My mother was a Kildair, and struck by the curious resemblance between us, I made inquiries with this result.
“I know that up to now your feelings towards me have been hostile, but I hope that in view of our newly discovered relationship, you will let byegones be byegones. After all, blood is thicker than water, and already I feel an interest in you that exceeds the warmth of ordinary friendship.
“I would like you to visit me at my Villa. If it suits you, my car will await you at ten this evening at the Church of St. Devoté. Do run you up. Please do not fail me.
“Your cousin,
“Paul Vulning.”
Hugh had to read this extraordinary letter over three times before he understood the significance of it. To his amazement succeeded disgust. He had no desire to be related to Vulning. His dislike for the man was invincible. There was also his resentment towards his father’s family. He did not want to have anything to do with them. They had refused to recognize his mother, and had never shown the slightest interest in himself. Vulning was typical of them, arrogant, selfish, supercilious. Why then this sudden interest on his part? Why did Vulning recognize him now, want to take him up? Hugh was puzzled.