The interview with Mr. Cleaver did not take long, although such
weighty concerns were spoken of. Dale sat on a chair near the wall,
his hat held between his knees, his eyes lowered; while Mavis sat on
a chair close to the solicitor, talking, flushing, throbbing,
gradually ascending a scale of excitement so feverishly strong that it
seemed as if it must eventually consume her just as fire consumes.
Mr. Barradine had left her two thousand pounds, and this sum was to be
paid to her free of all duties. The will had not yet been proved, but
everything was in order and probate would be granted any day now;
minor legacies would then immediately be cleared off; and, since Mavis
would have no difficulty in satisfying the executors as to her
identity, she might really consider the money as safe in her pocket.
Mr. Cleaver, having made this stimulating communication and described
the formalities that she must fulfil, asked a few questions about
certain of her relatives.
"Ruby Millicent Petherick. That is a cousin of yours? Yes." And he
jotted down a note of any facts that Mavis could supply. "Still a
spinster. About your own age, and living abroad. Thank you. That is
all you can tell me? There seems to be doubt as to her whereabouts.
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