Free Devil's Tor by David Lindsay Page A

regard.
    "Won't you sit down again, Hugh?" He complied, and she added:
    "I didn't know that you were appointing me your executrix."
    "I took the liberty of naming you when I made a new will after the death of my sister. You and Ingrid then became my next-of-kin, and so I drew up the will in favour of you two. Under the circumstances, I took it for granted that you would undertake the executorship. If I never notified you at the time, it was because I wished not to raise possibly false expectations. I might be getting married—though that was always highly improbable. Now it's quite out of the question, and I can give you the straight assurance that you and your daughter are to inherit, in equal proportions. At present—supposing I were to die at once—you would get something like nineteen thousand pounds after payment of death duties; between you."
    Helga, gazing at him oddly, sat amazed and silent. She had imagined that he was in money difficulties, and now he was all at once able to leave so much behind him! She was unaware of any immediate access of pleasure at the surprise. For one thing, it was little likely that she (being so much older than Hugh, and he so fit-looking) would ever outlive him. And, his own declaration notwithstanding, he might still find a wife. There were notoriously such swarms of marriage-seeking girls in India, where he so often was. She could not determine Ingrid's chances of inheritance.
    He talked on.
    "The estate's perfectly straightforward. It certainly doesn't represent a millionaire's fortune, still it should prove a useful little addition to what you may have already. It's the unconsumed portion of my father's hoard. All of it in good sound non-speculative stock, mostly trustee; with a few ready hundreds at Coutts', Charing Cross, and personal effects very much scattered over India, London and here, which it wouldn't be worth your while to worry much about. My solicitors hold the will; Marquis & Kent, Norfolk Street, Strand. They would act for you if you wished."
    But Helga's continued dumbness and air of disturbed abstraction were chilling him, for he had expected at least some little show of gratification, whereas now he was being driven to conceive that she was only affronted. Possibly in his clumsy failure to provide that margin for the extra sensitiveness of women he had conveyed to her the idea that he was deliberately insulting their assumed position of dependence and poverty. If so, it was very silly of her, and he did not know how to put it right. He trusted that her own better sense would put it right for her and him in the next few moments.
    "Marquis & Kent," he repeated, in a colder tone. "Shall I write it down for you?"
    "No, I shall remember it, Hugh. But I am thinking how to thank you, this provision of yours is so awfully decent and considerate. In all human probability you will survive me, so I don't count, but I'm intensely touched by what you are doing for Ingrid. Sometimes I positively can't face the thought that the poor child must one day fight the world alone."
    "Let us hope that she'll be safely and happily married to a good fellow long before you depart."
    "We'll speak of that another time, Hugh. You have earned the right to be our adviser now. But may I tell her this?"
    "Why not? If you wish. I really only mentioned the business to pave a way to what follows. If you are ready—?"
    Helga threw him a swift glance, which was not for his seeing.
    "I am ready, of course. It has to do with that box, has it not?"
    "Yes. Before I begin, however—you aren't offended over this matter of the will? You are not imagining that I have taken too much for granted?"
    "Why should you think that, Hugh? I am only very, very grateful."
    "You seemed perturbed."
    "No, indeed. I think it is a perfectly beautiful action, since it is not to deprive any nearer person."
    "No one else has a claim at all."
    Her grown quiet warmth of manner now satisfied him that she had never felt affronted,