Free Solomons Seal by Hammond Innes Page B

trading.’
    â€˜He was being financed by his father, I believe.’
    He looked at me sharply. ‘Did Miss Holland tell you that?’
    â€˜Yes. She said that’s where all their money had gone.’
    He nodded. ‘I advised against it, but yes, that’s true I’m afraid. And now he’s gone in with a rivalshipowner, a relative of some sort.’ I asked whether he had any information about the man, but he said, ‘No, Captain Holland was very reticent on the matter. But I do know this, he wouldn’t have approved of his son’s involvement. Some sort of family feud.’ He checked himself there. ‘I can’t go into that, you understand, or into the financial details. But as far as Miss Holland’s money is concerned, I tied it up as best I could so that she now has quite a large stake in this ship of her brother’s. Something I’ll have to look into, but I fear it’ll take time and no way I can see of converting it into cash.’ He got to his feet, muttering in a very petulant tone, ‘She should have told me what she was doing so that I could advise her.’
    I was standing beside him, downing the rest of my drink, when he continued, speaking slowly, almost reflectively, ‘If you’re right about Miss Holland going out to join her brother, then I am afraid it will be a difficult journey for her, a very unhappy one. I can’t help wondering … ’ He shook his head, and when I asked him what he meant, he pursed his lips and murmured something about its being no place for a young woman. ‘It means she’s going back to the very island where her mother was murdered, where she herself was injured.’
    â€˜What island is that?’ I asked.
    â€˜Madehas, near Buka. And it was in the Buka Passage that Timothy Holland had his accident.’ He shook his head again. ‘Her grandfather, too. It’s not been a lucky place for the Hollands.’
    â€˜And that’s where her brother is now?’
    â€˜I suppose so. His base anyway. The last I heard he was living on board his ship. He had just the one, and he was running it himself, trading in the islands and around Bougainville.’ He seemed to think he had said enough, for he turned to leave. But then he paused. ‘Those stamps you mentioned. Are they worth anything?’ I told him she should clear at least £2,000, and he seemed pleased. ‘That’s good. I’d like to think she had some money coming to her.’ And then with his usual caution he added, ‘I take it you have a buyer.’
    â€˜Two,’ I said, ‘so it may pay to auction them. I’ll be going up to London on Friday, and if I have time, I’ll look in on a dealer I know and get his advice.’
    He nodded. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll do the best you can for her.’ He was turning to go, and I reminded him about the house and that I’d need the key. ‘Ah, yes, I should have told you. She left it with a Mrs Clegg next door, a house called Wherry Haven.’ And he added, ‘Have a good lunch, and if you’re being asked to deal with anything local, you might remind Rowlinson we did the conveyance on his present residence.’
    It was well past one when I got to the factory on the Maldon road. They were standing around in the boardroom, and a girl was serving drinks. All the directors were there, including Chips’s wife, Bessie, a nice homely woman, but with a very good head for business. Shortly after they were married, the two of them had begun smoking salmon in a shed attached to their cottage on the Blackwater, using the traditional oak chips, which was how he got his nickname. Thatwas the start of it all, and now even the new factory was too small for them. The board meeting had been considering details of the latest expansion programme, and they asked me about the availability of the adjoining land and its probable cost.
    It was