The intimacy between Mrs. Wallingford and Constance, had grown into a close interior friendship, and scarcely a week passed that an evening was not spent by them together, sometimes at our house, and sometimes at Ivy Cottage. Mr. Wallingford had developed into a man after my own heart; and so I shared, when professional engagements allowed, in the enjoyment of these pleasant seasons.
One evening Mr. and Mrs. Wallingford came round to spend an hour with us. I was happily at leisure. Conversation naturally falls into the current of passing events, and on this occasion, the approaching marriage of Mr. Dewey came naturally into the field of topics. This led to a review of the many strange circumstances connected with Mrs. Wallingford's presence in S——, and naturally, to an inquiry from my wife as to the present position of the property left by Captain Allen.
“What about this young Garcia?” said Constance, addressing Mr. Wallingford. “I haven't heard of him for some time.”
“He is at school yet, I believe,” replied Mr. Wallingford, not showing much interest in the matter.
“He must be nearly of age,” said I.
“About twenty, if his years were correctly given.”
“He will come into the possession of a handsome property,” I remarked.
“Yes, if it can be found by the time he is ready to receive it.”
“Can be found! I don't comprehend you, Mr. Wallingford? Do you mean to question the integrity of the men who are executors to the estate?”
“No. But, they have embarked in the same vessel with an unscrupulous villain—so I regard Ralph Dewey—and have, as far as I can see, given the rudder into his hands. If he do not wreck them on some dangerous coast, or sunken rock, it will be more from good fortune than anything else.”