ed the bag to
him. The mail-boat from England, which was run on purpose to carry
Jane's weekly letter to him, had brought the big square envelope with
its usual commendable punctuality. Peter chose it out from the rest of
the letters, and, handing Purvis a packet which belonged to him, he
gave the bag back to the boy, who cantered along with his bare legs
swinging until he disappeared into the level glare of the setting sun.
Peter let his horse amble on slowly, and read his letter while he rode.
'I must push on, I think,' said the quiet voice of Purvis beside him.
'There are one or two things which, I gather from my letters, I must
put straight at the estancia. I hope to have definite news to
communicate to you before long.'
'Thanks!' said Peter, giving him a nod. 'You will let me hear from you
as soon as you know anything?' He turned his horse homewards, and
Purvis rode on alone.
'If he has found my brother,' quoth Peter, 'Purvis has done his job,
and I can't complain; but he has got to settle the thing up without all
this confounded mystery, or else he can leave it alone. There is one
thing perfectly clear. Edward himself knows nothing about his parents
or his prospects, or he would have claimed the property long ago. Now,
how has Purvis found out about the man what he doesn't know himself?
Where has he got his clue? One thing is pretty certain--that he
doesn't want me to meet my brother yet, which looks very much as if our
friend Purvis was going to make some sort of bargain with the heir,
whoever he is, before he allows him to know the truth about himself.
Well, the affair will be judged by English lawyers when we get home,
and if it is a case of blackmail, for instance, English people are not
very fond of that sort of thing, so Purvis may not be able to make such
a good bargain as he thinks.
'Of course the chain of evidence may be perfectly simple. Purvis has
probably got hold of the name of whoever it was that brought Edward
here, and has traced him somewhere, and has got the whole story from
him. My mother had always an unlimited supply of money; she could have
settled a large sum on the people who looked after him, and of course
it is evident that some money must have been paid, though the lawyers
could find no trace of it amongst her papers. The only other
hypothesis is that it is a case of some extraordinary aberration of
memory, and that, the child she disliked having been removed, she
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