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left home that a buccaneer like Alan would be able to pillage the pillagers, and he was rapidly beginning to see ways of accomplishing this!
    One duty, rather than pleasure, saw him making his way to the Waring family lawyers, who had their offices in Lincoln’s Inns Fields. He dressed with some care, not in Ned’s presents, but in the new suit which his tailor had made for him. Gurney had even tamed his unruly sandy hair, so like his father’s. Thus respectable, he was ushered into the rooms of Hallowes, Bunthorne and Thring.
    There were three people waiting for him, and two of them were obviously lawyers. One was sitting at a large desk, the other, holding a pile of papers, was perched on a high stool next to an over-full bookcase, and was obviously the junior of the pair.
    The third man was tall and silver-haired. He was in his late fifties or early sixties and the expression on his handsome face could best be described as sardonic when he saw Alan come through the door.
    All present rose to their feet.
    â€˜Mr Alan Dilhorne, I believe?’ the senior lawyer said. Alan nodded agreement. He continued, ‘May I present myself? I am Mr John Bunthorne, at your service, and this is Lewis Thring, my junior partner.’
    Alan bowed and acknowledged them both.
    Bunthorne turned and identified the third man in the room. ‘May I have the honour of presenting you to Sir Patrick Ramsey, KB, once of the 73rd Foot, the Royal Highlanders, stationed in Sydney when Lachlan Macquarie was Governor there. He has come to help us in our duties.’
    Sir Patrick bowed gracefully to Alan. Alan responded; the lawyer waved him to a chair before his desk.
    â€˜Being a businessman yourself, Mr Dilhorne, you will, of course, understand that we have a duty to protect the Waring estate from possible impostors.’
    He paused, and Alan said, ‘Of course,’ and tried not to look at Sir Patrick who appeared vaguely amused by the whole business.
    â€˜Since we discovered your mother’s existence—Sir John having left her everything without ascertaining whether she was alive or dead—we have taken a number of affidavits from persons resident in Sydney at the time of her marriage but who have now returned to England. These appear to be satisfactory on the face of it.
    â€˜I am sure, though, that you will understand that it seemed wise to ask Sir Patrick Ramsey to meet you as further confirmation, since Colonel Wright left for servicein India some six months ago. That is correct, is it not, Sir Patrick?’
    Sir Patrick flapped a hand in agreement.
    â€˜Now, as I understand it, Mr Dilhorne, you are here on behalf of your father, Thomas Dilhorne Esquire.’
    â€˜No,’ said Alan, throwing both lawyers into a temporary fluster. ‘My father is Tom, not Thomas, and I am not here on his behalf. It is my mother who inherits the estate, and I represent her.’
    Sir Patrick gave a short laugh on hearing this.
    Bunthorne favoured Alan with a patronising smile.
    â€˜Not so, Mr Dilhorne. But your mistake is quite understandable, since you may be unaware that under English law your mother’s rights are subsumed under your father’s.’
    â€˜It is you who mistake,’ said Alan gently. ‘At home my mother’s possessions have been contractually reverted back to her. She is a free agent, and, as such, is as full a partner in my father’s firm as myself or my brother Tom.’
    Sir Patrick’s laugh was not stifled this time. Memory moved in him when he surveyed Tom Dilhorne’s son.
    The lawyer was only temporarily embarrassed. He began again.
    â€˜Your mother’s inheritance. So be it. And you are her representative. Very good.’
    He gave a half-bow in Sir Patrick’s direction. ‘Now, Sir Patrick, you see Mr Alan Dilhorne before you. Have you any comments to make or questions to ask?’
    Sir Patrick rose negligently. Alan saw that he had been an