‘ “£20,000 to Lucy Benton, last heard of by me as living at 72, Mearton Mansions, Handel Street, Bloomsbury, London, in 1920.”’
The family looked at one another silently, questioning if any of them knew the fortunate Lucy, but Mr. Bullett was reading on:
‘ “£20,000 to Aileen Orkney, wife of William Bishop Orkney, last heard of by me as living in Hilton Road, Sea Point, Cape Town, South Africa, in 1924.”’
A sudden horrible fear crossed the mind of Henry Long. Was it possible that John’s dreadful impish humour, which had made it so difficult for him to understand his brother, had induced him to make a mock of them by leaving his entire fortune to complete strangers? The others sat, tense and silent, hanging upon Mr. Bullett’s words.
‘ “£20,000 to Violet Robins, née Twisdon, last heard of by me at 122, Cemetery Road, Norwood, London, S.E., in 1904.’
A sudden chuckle broke the stillness of the dusty room. It came from Sandy McDiamid, at the realisation that wicked Uncle John was parcelling out his splendid fortune to all his past mistresses. ‘Anybody know these ladies?’ he inquired, shaking back the dark lock of hair from his forehead again.
‘I knew Violet,’ Henry replied grimly. ‘She was a slip of a girl that John was once in love with, but she turned him down for a man named Robins. This Will is a scandal and an insult.’
‘Be patient, please,’ Mr. Bullett reproved the interruption.
‘ “£20,000 to Judge Van Niekerk, of The Jacarandas, Church Street, Pretoria, South Africa.”’
‘Well, I know who he is,’ murmured Sandy, ‘but I thought the old boy was dead.’
Ignoring the remark, Mr. Bullet went on:
‘ “£20,000 to Mademoiselle Collette La Cloche, refugee from Armentiéres, last heard of by me as employed at the Estaminet of Les Deux Freres in the village of Bermicourt, near St. Pol, France, in 1917.”’
A worried grin spread over George Bennett’s plump face. ‘Tribute to the part our gallant Allies played in the War, I reckon,’ he said, with as much cheerfulness as he could muster.
‘Old soldiers never die!’ added his brother.
The spirits of the family had sunk to zero. Already £100,000 of that fortune which had occupied their every thought for the last few weeks had melted away.
Henry’s lean fists were tightly clenched. His nails bit into the palms with indignation and anger. ‘Go on, go on,’ he muttered quickly, ‘let’s have this farce done with.’
The lawyer nodded.
‘ “£5,000 to Lieutenant Roger Philbeach, 461st Brigade R.F.A. (Territorial Force), last heard of by me as a traveller for Messrs., Rithen, Ruthern & Co,’ Wine Merchants, London in 1923.
‘ “£5,000 to Joe-Jack Mahout, last heard of by me as barman at the Royal Hotel, Durban, South Africa, in 1923.
‘ “£5,000 to Israel Rubenstein, last heard of by me at 299, Old Montague Street, Whitechapel, London, in 1919.”’
‘Lord!’ exclaimed George. ‘It’s like a draw in the Irish Sweep for all these people, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ muttered Ernest, ‘and we’ll be lucky if we’re listed in the hundreds.’
‘There is only one more bequest,’ went on Mr. Bullett, and that is:
‘ “£50,000 to the Mandarin Loo Hi Foo of Hang Chow, China, conditional upon his consenting to pardon and rehabilitate his daughter Almond-Tree-in-Blossom, who has filled the last years of my life with happiness. Should he refuse, this sum is to be paid to the aforesaid lady, together with, in any case, the residue of my Estate, including such sums as have been allocated to persons in this my Will should they pre-decease me.
‘ “To the above-named lady, Miss Almond-Tree-in-Blossom, I also leave my house in Hong Kong, together with all its fixtures, fittings etc. and my personal effects.”’
The lawyer paused and regarded their disappointed faces for a moment over his spectacles.
‘How much do you think this celestial beauty will come in for?’ asked Michael curiously, his brown eyes twinkling.
‘It is a little difficult to say. If her father accepts the £50,000 the bequests will amount to £166,000, but I learn that Van Niekerk and Violet Robins are both dead, so that reduces them to £126,000, but even after taxation has been paid the Estate should realise some £180,000 at a low estimate.’
With a grey face, Henry Long jerked himself to his feet. ‘Come!’he snapped through clenched teeth to his daughter, ‘I consider it is a disgrace that we should have been dragged here to listen to this wicked record of an ill-spent life. I shall consult another solicitor, Bullett, with a view to contesting the validity of this Will in the Courts.’
‘One moment!’ The lawyer held up a slim, dry hand. ‘This Will is properly attested in due legal form and even a doctor’s certificate as to the sanity of the testator at the time it was drawn up has been attached. You can consult any solicitor you like but I feel certain that he will bear me out in my opinion that its validity is quite unshakable. However, I did not ask you here to-day only to listen to the reading of a Will which benefits none of you—there is another matter.’
Henry sat down again, while the others stiffened to a new attention.
‘You are, I think, all aware that up till about ten years ago the late John Thomas Long drifted about the world in what might almost be described as precarious circumstances. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, he never had a penny except the small sums which he earned from time to time as prospector and hunter or in casual employment as bond salesman, motor car agent—and temporary manager on various South African farms. Yet at a certain date we learn of his sudden and inexplicable rise to considerable riches. How his fortune, of which you have just learned the disposal, was acquired has always been a mystery, but in addition to his Will he left a letter giving particulars of the source from which it came. That is his sole legacy to his blood relations and I am about to read it to you now.’
3
If Blood is Thicker than Water?
Mr. Bullett coughed again, picked up another paper from his desk, adjusted his spectacles and proceeded:
‘ “Brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces. You will note that I do not address any of you as ‘Dear’ because you are not dear to me in any sense. You will by this time have heard the contents of my Will and have noted, with varying degrees of disappointment and anger, that I have left all my money to those who gave me pleasure in my lifetime, which none of you can ever claim to have done.
‘ “Old skin-flint Henry is listening to this, I have not a doubt, for he will cling to life just as he has always clung to his money bags, and it is one of my few regrets that I shall not be present to witness his discomfort. Gertrude, too, perhaps and, although I owe her nothing, in view of her consistent disregard of my letters asking for small sums which she could have well afforded during her later life, I take the opportunity to salute her as a kindred spirit at least, in having the courage to desert old Bennett and the ability to cajole Kane-Swift into making an honest woman of her. The Bennett boys will be there too possibly, if they escaped the War, and Susan, to whom I was tempted to leave a little money, since she was the best of a pretty miserable bunch. However, I see no reason why I should differentiate, as none of you have ever done a thing for me or given me one moment’s thought.
‘ “Yet it is said, so often, when Wills such as mine are made public, that blood is thicker than water and that it is a wrong for a man to leave all his possessions away from his family, however indifferent to them he may be, so in the circumstances it is my pleasure to test that well-worn saying.
‘ “I could, if I choose, place each of you in a few months in possession of a fortune as great, or greater, than that which I have left; but I am not prepared to do so unless you can prove that the same blood which animated my brain to careful and laborious investigation, and strengthened my body to endure hardship, peril and distress runs also in your veins. I refer to the actual source of my great wealth, which could have been ten, twenty, fifty times a
s much had I desired a greater portion than I took for my modest enjoyment.
‘ “It was in Africa, years even before I returned to Europe to participate in the Great War, that I first heard of the fabulous valley which is known as ‘The Place of the Great Glitter’. Certain prospectors were said to have visited it and come away with a fortune in their pockets. Many more have attempted to discover its whereabouts but died on their way thither, or failed in their undertaking. Every child in Africa knows this so-called legend, and anyone will tell you that it lies somewhere in the south of the Great Kalahari Desert.
‘ “The finding of it is, however, a very different matter. The whole of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales could be set down in the Kalahari and their borders would not touch the fringe of civilisation by a hundred miles from any of their extremities. That vast area is almost entirely uninhabited—its rivers and mountain ranges still unmapped. Its wastes are trackless and desolate so that the very silence reacts with terrible force upon all people who are used to living in cities.
‘ “It was not until 1924 that I met a man who induced me to believe that the ‘Place of the Great Glitter’ was anything more than a legend, but after many months of sifting conflicting evidence as to its whereabouts I ventured out upon ore of the most terrible journeys that any man can ever have undertaken. I found the Valley, and, having picked up, in a little under an hour, sufficient precious stones to ensure my comfort for the rest of my days, I succeeded in returning to civilisation in safety.
‘ “There are people still living who made the journey with me, and could lead you to this hidden source of fortune. Their names do not appear in my Will since they were amply rewarded for their services at the time and paid, in addition, a very considerable sum to keep the secret until I, or some person whom they would recognise by a a symbol, should seek them out.
‘ “These symbols, then, constitute my sole legacy to my family and should there be more than three of you, lots must be drawn as to who is to receive them. If you can interpret these tokens aright and have the courage, patience and endurance to undertake the investigations and the journey Blood will have proved thicker than Water, and you will indeed be heirs to whom I am happy to leave this great inheritance.
‘ “I go now to open a fresh consignment of old brandy which has just arrived from my wine merchants in Pall Mall. Ac I sample it, and Almond-Tree-in-Blossom sings one of her enchanting songs for me alone, I shall laugh a little over the thought of Brother Henry, whose avarice willl certainly induce him to accept the venture, as he lies down to sleep in the Valley of the Leopards.
‘ “JOHN THOMAS LONG.”’
As the lawyer ceased reading a tense silence settled on the faded room. Each member of the family felt a secret thrill at the glamorous prospect of great wealth which had suddenly been extended to them.
Henry’s eyes narrowed. It had always seemed a rank injustice to him that while he had had to slave for every penny of his modest fortune his spendthrift brother should have unaccountably stumbled upon great riches. John’s cutting references to his avarice in the letter passed him by unmoved. That the legacy should have been flung to them in this contemptuous manner mattered nothing. It was there for those who had the courage to collect it. He must not involve himself with the others, of course. The Bennetts hated him, he knew, and would be certain to cheat him if they could—but he meant to get his share.
His daughter, her hazel eyes filled with sudden excitement, was thinking that it would be new life to be independent of him. Her own flat, a little car, and a glorious freedom from the dull routine of his narrow household.
To the Bennetts money meant more money. They saw themselves buying up the shares of the Company in which they had worked their way to directorships, and extending—new plant—new offices—a hundred travellers on the road—and at last a cessation of that constant nightmare—overheads.
Sandy McDiamid’s face held a carefully guarded interest. The only South African present, he knew the snags as well as the possibilities of this legendary valley. The cautious brain which he had inherited from his Scottish father told him that a journey there was not a thing to be undertaken lightly, yet his mother’s blood urged him to the gamble and he knew already within himself that he meant to try for it. Still—‘If you must go, my boy, keep your own council and don’t get mixed up with any of these unknown kinsmen.’ As his glance shifted from the flushed faces of the Bennetts to the tight mouth of Henry Long he could almost hear his father speaking.
Gertrude was visualising her lovely home as she had first known it when Heron Kane-Swift took her there twenty-five years before. The carriages, the motors, the many servants, the hunt breakfasts beneath the cedars on the lawn, the ball to which all the county came each year; and Michael was seeing the other side of the picture … the empty stables … the neglected gardens … the beautiful old Jacobean house falling into disrepair.
He had been sitting with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped in his hands, now he sat up with a jerk. His broad, freckled face flushed with eagerness. He put an affectionate arm round his mother and said:
‘This is too good to be true. I’ve got to go.’
She started as though brought back from a dream. ‘But, Michael dear, the danger—I couldn’t let you—besides …’
‘I know,’ he broke in with a swift whisper, ‘you were going to speak about money for the journey, but think what this means to us.’
Gertrude Kane-Swift knew only too well. When her husband had been killed in the hunting field two years before, it had been discovered that, in order to keep up Harcourt Priory, he had been living almost entirely upon his capital. Gertrude had been struggling ever since with barely enough money, saved from the clutches of the mortgagees, to keep Michael and herself.
‘I suppose I could sell the pearls.’ she murmured, ‘but it’s your safety, my dear, that I am thinking of.’
Ernest Bennett leaned across to Sandy. ‘I say, McDiamid, you know the country. Is it true about this Valley, or is it all my eye and Betty Martin?’
Sandy’s full lips broke into a smile. ‘Yes, I’m a South African, but it’s a big country, and although I know the part round the Cape and the big towns like Johannesburg and Durban I’ve never been within five hundred miles of this place. The legend is well known, though, and as there’s no other explanation for the old man suddenly securing all that money it looks as if the Valley really must exist.’
‘What about it, Ernie?’ George broke in.
‘Nothing venture, nothing have,’ replied the younger Bennett, fingering the enormous Adam’s apple which stuck out like a walnut in his throat, ‘but how about the bizz?’
‘Oh, we’ll fix that. What have we got partners for if we can’t break away for a couple of months in a case like this?’
‘Yes, and you were going for a trip anyway.’
George rubbed his hands and chuckled. ‘This’ll be more fun than going on a cruise with the stuffy sort of people you get these days—though it’s a disappointment not to be able to use that fancy dress.’ He swung quickly round on Henry, all his animosity evaporated in the excitement of the moment. ‘How about you, Uncle?’
‘I don’t know,’ Henry Long said, with quiet reserve. ‘If I’d been a man to dash into things I shouldn’t be where I am to-day.’
‘But, Father, we must!’ exclaimed Patricia suddenly. ‘Surely you don’t expect me to take you, even if I did decide to go?’ He stared at her with incredulity. ‘I couldn’t possibly afford it.’
For a moment a cowed expression came into her slightly protruding eyes, then they brightened and she said hastily: ‘All right, I’ll pay for myself. I’m just as much Uncle John’s heir as anyone else here, and I wouldn’t miss this for the world.’
‘Since when did you have any money that I didn’t give you?’
Patricia’s face grew stubborn. ‘There is Aunt Mary’s legacy, the five hundred pounds in War Loan that she left me. I can sell that out
if I want to.’
Her father shrugged. ‘All right, if you like to squander your money I can’t stop you.’
‘What about those clues?’ Sandy asked the lawyer. ‘Have you got them here?’
Bullett nodded and, rising from his chair, walked over to a long tin uniform case, which he unlocked and, removing the contents, carried them back to his desk.
The three articles displayed consisted of a fine knobkerrie of heavy, dark wood, the rounded top of which was curiously carved; a necklace some four feet long, consisting of tiny skulls, carefully graduated from a size not much larger than a thumb-nail up to that of a cricket ball; and a plain leopard-skin kaross, such as natives of the interior sometimes use as a body covering.
‘Coo-er!’ exclaimed Ernest, picking up the necklace. ‘Enough to give anyone the willies, isn’t it?’
Sandy took it from him and examined it curiously. ‘It’s a witch doctor’s,’ he said, ‘and these are not human skulls from slaughtered children, only the heads of baby monkeys.’
Michael picked up the knobkerrie. ‘By jove, what a weapon!’
‘Weapon’s the word, all right. It must have been this that started the song “Knock ’Em in the Old Kent Road”,’ Ernest agreed, chuckling at his own humour.
‘If you please,’ Mr. Bullet intervened. ‘According to my client’s instructions, since there are more than three of you, I am to distribute these by lot, and for that purpose I have this prepared.’ He produced a small tin tobacco box in which there were seven carefully folded slips of paper of equal size. ‘I suggest that you should draw them in order of age if you are agreeable.’
Gertrude took a slip, unfolded it quickly, and the words Leopard Skin Kaross were seen clearly printed in ink upon it.
Henry drew next, and to his obvious chagrin got a blank. George Bennett followed with a like result, then Ernest looked across at Sandy McDiamid.
The Fabulous Valley Page 2