Free The Girl In the Cave by Anthony Eaton Page A

both good news and bad news for you, I’m afraid.” The gentleman in the grey suit sat behind his desk and looked over the top of his glasses at Kate. “Which would you like first?”
    Kate thought for a moment or two.
    â€œThe bad news, please, Mr Jenkins.”
    The lawyer shuffled some papers in front of him.
    â€œWell, it would appear that the Pincushion fortune, which you were to inherit, is in fact substantially less than originally thought.”
    â€œHow much less?”
    â€œWell, actually, nothing at all.”
    â€œNothing?”
    â€œPerhaps I can explain. As you know, the Pincushion wealth was made by two people, your grandfather, Sir Edgar, and his sister, Lady Penelope.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIt would appear that Lady Penelope’s part of the family money came from the sale of small gold nuggets, which most people assumed she had found during her trips overseas. It appears, however, that she had been mining the gold herself from the cave in her back garden.”
    â€œI know this.”
    â€œQuite. What you don’t know is that our experts have now had time to survey the cave properly, and they believe that all of the gold was exhausted from that particular cave over ten years ago. Quite simply, there’s nothing left.”
    â€œBut what about the gold I found there? The trail into the main cavern?”
    â€œAh, yes, that. Well, Miss Kate, I’m afraid Lady Penelope told you the answer to that question herself.”
    Kate thought for a moment.
    â€œAll that glitters is not gold?” she said.
    â€œQuite right. In this case, I’m afraid, nothing more than common yellow household paint mixed with iron filings. All that remained of Lady Penelope’s fortune was several thousand dollars, which was being held in a secret trust account, the details of which were in that envelope you discovered.”
    Kate cheered up a little.
    â€œWell, that’s something, isn’t it?”
    â€œI’m afraid not, Miss Kate. You see, there’s also your grandfather’s part of the fortune, held in the same trust account; unlike Lady Penelope’s share, his amounted to several hundred thousand dollars.”
    Kate looked at the man, puzzled.
    â€œI thought you said that this was bad news.”
    â€œForgive me, Miss Kate, but I haven’t finished explaining yet. Sir Edgar, it would appear, was not quite the noted lepidopterist that he was thought to be.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œAs you know, he made his share of the family wealth selling rare and exotic butterflies to rich collectors the world over.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThe strange thing was, he never once, in all those years, sold or donated a single butterfly to a museum or a university. Only ever to private collectors.”
    â€œWhat’s strange about that?”
    â€œTell me, Miss Kate,” the lawyer reached in and pulled something out of a drawer in his mahogany desk, “do you recognise this at all?”
    Kate stared, amazed, at the familiar cream and black patterning.
    â€œOf course I do, it’s Uncle Dermott’s Zerynthia polyxena. However did you find it in all that wreckage?”
    â€œWe didn’t, Miss Kate. Look closely. Do you notice anything unusual?”
    For a few seconds Kate studied the tiny insect carefully. Then she realised.
    â€œThere’s no spot on the hindwing. This isn’t the same butterfly, is it?”
    â€œQuite right, Miss Kate. Very observant of you, I must say. This in fact came from the private collection of a Sydney gentleman, who originally obtained it from your grandfather for the sum of twenty thousand dollars.”
    â€œI’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
    â€œWatch then.”
    The lawyer eased open the drawer of the display case, then reached out and buzzed his secretary.
    â€œMiss Pumble, do you by chance have any nail polish remover with