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She let the flowers fall, ejaculating: "What?"

"Yes—yes! A dreadful accident. Death must have been instantaneous, I understand. He took his usual walk last night in the fog—there was a considerable fog, wasn't there? You remember we were obliged to drive very slowly on account of it? Well, as I was saying, in the fog he must have lost the path just where it winds close to the cliff edge and gone over. It doesn't bear thinking of, does it?"

She fixed him with a wide, glowing stare. "Dead? Cousin Silas actually dead? Clement, I can't believe it!"

"No, it doesn't seem possible, does it? I am very much distressed to think that such a thing should have happened."

"Yes, of course," she agreed. "But I do believe in being absolutely honest with oneself, and you must see, Clement, that it'll make the most tremendous difference to us. It's almost as though there's a Providence that steps in when one's almost desperate. Like that thing Mummy took up last year. Right Thought, or something, where you simply fix your mind on what you want and utterly believe it'll come to you, and it does, as long as you don't do anything about it."

Clement felt doubtful whether the exponents of whatever this odd creed might be would relish Rosemary's description of it. Nor did he feel that fixing one's mind upon the death of a relative could really be called Right Thought. He ventured to say so, but quite mildly, and added that, though he quite understood what Rosemary meant, he thought she should be careful of what she said. One would not like to seem callous.

She brushed this aside impatiently. "My dear Clement, I know I have a lot of faults, but at least I'm honest. I can't pretend to be sorry Cousin Silas is dead, because I'm not. Perhaps I am callous. Sometimes I think there is something inside me which is quite, quite cold. Not that I've any reason to mourn for Cousin Silas. I didn't like him, and he never understood me. I suppose you'll be the head of the firm now, won't you?"

"Well—I believe—that is to say, I know—that I shall have the biggest holding in the business. I really haven't considered it yet."

"And Cliff House?" she pursued. "That's yours, too, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "I suppose it is."

She sank back against her pillows, clasping her hands across her eyes, her head a little thrown back. "No more poky, hateful houses!" she said. "No more of this foul housekeeping! Do you know, Clement, I do honestly believe the sordidness of it all was killing the Essential Me?"

His gaze dwelled on the lovely line of her lifted jaw.

He said: "That's all I ever wanted wealth for: to give you the things that will make you happy, Rosemary."

She murmured: "Darling, you're terribly, terribly sweet to me!"

He bent over her, crushing the carnations, and kissed her throat, and her chin, and her parted lips.

"You're so beautiful!" he said huskily. "You ought to have all the things you want. Thank God I shall be able to give them to you at last!"

"Darling!" sighed Rosemary, gently disengaging herself from his grasp.

He went away to the office, uplifted as he had not been for many weeks, thinking of his inheritance in terms of pearls for Rosemary, furs for Rosemary, huge expensive cars for Rosemary.

The news of Silas' death was before him. In the outer office faces composed in decent grief met him; the head clerk, speaking in hushed tones, begged on behalf of the staff to offer condolences. He went immediately to Joseph Mansell's room and found him there with his son Paul and the tall lean man with the goatee beard who was Oscar Roberts.

All three were deep in discussion, but the talk was broken off as he entered the room. Joe Mansell rose ponderously from his chair and came forward, saying: "I'm glad you felt able to come to the office, Clement. This is a terrible business! Poor old Silas! And only yesterday we were all at Cliff House to celebrate his sixtieth birthday! I know how you must feel it. I was only saying to Roberts just now that Silas was almost like a father to you. Poor fellow, poor fellow! It was that heart of his, I suppose?"

"I don't know," Clement replied. "I only heard over the telephone, and I didn't ask for details. Really, I was so shocked I could scarcely take in the bare fact of Silas' death."

"No wonder, no wonder! When I heard of it I could not believe my ears. Bowled over! It doesn't do to think of the years I've known Silas. Right from the cradle. He will be a great loss to the firm."

Paul Mansell, who had been contemplating his well-manicured hands with smiling complacency, looked up and murmured his agreement with this sentiment.

The fourth member of the party, observing father and son with a distinct twinkle of amusement in his deep-sunken eyes, said in a slightly nasal drawclass="underline" "Well, I guess talking won't mend matters. I'd like to offer my sincere condolences, Mr. Kane. Maybe the old man and I didn't see eye to eye, but I sure did respect him. It seems out of place for me to be here to talk business today, but time presses, and I have to consider the interests of the firm I represent."

Joe heaved a gusty sigh. "Yes, yes, I'm sure we all appreciate your viewpoint. Silas would be the last person to want us to neglect the business, eh, Clement? Dear me, it will seem strange not to have him at the head of affairs!"

"Strange and melancholy," said Paul, gazing at the top of the window frame. "Yes indeed. Well, we shall look to you now, Clement, to fill his place. Ably, I am sure, you'll do it. We've often said, between ourselves, how like you were to Silas. You have his hard head, without his—how shall I put it?—conservatism! Poor Silas! He was getting old, you know. I've thought several times his years were telling on him. Losing grip—just losing grip a little."

Clement's harassed look deepened. He said in his quick, worried way: "I haven't had time to look to the future yet. I shall have to consider my position, of course; but at present I haven't thought about it."

"No wonder," said Joe sympathetically. "I'm sure we all understand how you must be feeling. But, as I said to Paul, you'll be the first to appreciate Roberts' position. In actual fact, I believe I'm right in saying that we are all three of us agreed on the subject?" He paused, but Clement stood frowning down at the floor and said nothing. Joe glanced momentarily towards his son and resumed with a rather false air of heartiness: "Well, well, we've talked it over so often that we needn't go into it again now. As you know, Roberts came down from town last night to get Silas' final answer. Naturally things will have to remain in abeyance until after probate, but I fancy we shall have no difficulty in coming to an agreement on the future policy of the firm and can give our friend here his answer now. What do you say, Clement?"

There was a short silence. Clement was thinking of what the upkeep and the probable refurnishing of Cliff House would cost him; of death duties and the super-tax he would have to pay; of the pearls Rosemary must have. Silas had been right: this Australian project was a chancy business. It meant locking up a lot of capital without any certainty of an adequate return.

Easy enough for the Mansells to talk so lightly about it. They wouldn't be risking anything. He looked up and said: "Really, I don't think I am in a position to say anything definite at the moment. I shall have to look into things carefully. The whole situation has altered. I don't feel I ought to commit myself rashly before I see just how I stand. I'm sure Mr. Roberts will understand that it is quite impossible for me to give him an answer today."

Oscar Roberts replied before Joe Mansell could speak: "Why, surely, Mr. Kane! I reckon it wouldn't be reasonable to expect you to decide anything at a moment's notice like this."