“As for the accumulations, they amount at the present moment to a very large sum indeed, an immense sum—more than a million of money. The late Langley Holme left one daughter, whose only descendant is the young lady here present, Miss Constance Ambry.”
Constance rose.
“We will talk about this business at another time,” she said.
Leonard followed her out of the damp and grave-like house into the ruined garden. And they sat down together in silence.
“Fifteen thousand pounds!” said Fred. “It is no more at present rates of interest than £400 a year. But it’s a pleasant little nest-egg to take out to Australia—with the Dunnings to place if——”
“Fifteen thousand pounds,” said Christopher to his son. “It’s a nice little addition. But, my boy, the Bureau is worth ten times as much.”
They walked away. They rambled about the house of Ruin and Decay. Presently they walked to the station: the dream of huge wealth was shattered. But still, there was a solatium.
Mrs. Galley turned to the lawyer.
“Sir,” she said, “when will that money be my very own?”
“Immediately. It has only to be transferred. If you wish for an advance——”