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the capital. In short the money was strictly tied up. With the will were
some other papers that apparently referred to certain property in Hungary to which Heda might become entitled, but about these I did not
trouble.
Replacing these documents in a safe inner pocket in the lining of my
waistcoat, I went into our room and woke up Anscombe who was sleeping soundly, a fact that caused an unreasonable irritation in my mind.
When at length he was thoroughly aroused I said to him—
"You are in luck's way, my friend. Marnham is dead."
"Oh! poor Heda," he exclaimed, "she loved him. It will half break her
heart."
"If it breaks half of her heart," I replied, "it will mend the other half, for
now her filial affection can't force her to marry Rodd, and that is where
you are in luck's way."
87
Then I told him all the story.
"Was he murdered or did he commit suicide?" he asked when I had
finished.
"I don't know, and to tell you the truth I don't want to know; nor will
you if you are wise, unless knowledge is forced upon you. It is enough
that he is dead, and for his daughter's sake the less the circumstances of
his end are examined into the better."
"Poor Heda!" he said again, "who will tell her? I can't. You found him,
Allan."
"I expected that job would be my share of the business, Anscombe.
Well, the sooner it is over the better. Now dress yourself and come on to
the stoep."
Then I left him and next minute met Heda's fat, half-breed maid, a stupid but good sort of a woman who was called Kaatje, emerging from her
mistress's room with a jug, to fetch hot water, I suppose.
"Kaatje," I said, "go back and tell the Missie Heda that I want to speak
to her as soon as I can. Never mind the hot water, but stop and help her
to dress."
She began to grumble a little in a good-natured way, but something in
my eye stopped her and she went back into the room. Ten minutes later
Heda was by my side.
"What is it, Mr. Quatermain?" she asked. "I feel sure that something
dreadful has happened."
"It has, my dear," I answered, "that is, if death is dreadful. Your father
died last night."
"Oh!" she said, "oh!" and sank back on to the seat.
"Bear up," I went on, "we must all die one day, and he had reached the
full age of man."
"But I loved him," she moaned. "He had many faults I know, still I
loved him."
"It is the lot of life, Heda, that we should lose what we love. Be thankful, therefore, that you have some one left to love."
"Yes, thank God! that's true. If it had been him—no, it's wicked to say
that."
Then I told her the story, and while I was doing so, Anscombe joined
us, walking by aid of his stick. Also I showed them both Marnham's
88
letter to me and the will, but the other bit of paper I did not speak of or
show.
She sat very pale and quiet and listened till I had done. Then she
said—
"I should like to see him."
"Perhaps it is as well," I answered. "If you can bear it, come at once,
and do you come also, Anscombe."
We went to the room, Anscombe and Heda holding each other by the
hand. I unlocked the door and, entering, threw open a shutter. There sat
the dead man as I had left him, only his head had fallen over a little. She
gazed at him, trembling, then advanced and kissed his cold forehead,
muttering,
"Good-bye, father. Oh! good-bye, father."
A thought struck me, and I asked—
"Is there any place here where your father locked up things? As I have
shown you, you are his heiress, and if so it might be as well in this house
that you should possess yourself of his property."
"There is a safe in the corner," she answered, "of which he always kept