her.”
“She does now. The question is, should you ask her to come here right away—”
“Heaven forbid!”
“Or should you request any information she has about Samuel’s family, to be sent to you or given to your representative there. Or should you just advise her to do nothing till Samuel turns up, which for all we know could be after Geraldine’s house party. Being late wouldn’t invalidate his claim, would it?”
“No—unless, in the meantime, the College of Arms had declared someone else to be the rightful heir. But they’re never in a hurry. No, more likely, to my mind, is that he won’t turn up at all.”
“What would happen in such a case?” Sakari asked.
“Nothing, if one of the others proved his claim. But if it turns out that Samuel is descended through eldest sons from Julian, we might have to wait until he’s presumed dead.”
“Why shouldn’t he turn up?” Daisy demanded.
“I just think it’s odd that he’s been completely out of touch for so long. His grandfather’s death certificate gives the cause of death as cirrhosis of the liver. Perhaps Samuel is subject to the same weakness. He may be down-and-out in some Caribbean port, with no means or no intention of going home.”
“Facts,” Sakari reminded him tartly. “Lawyers are not supposed to have premonitions.”
“You’re quite right, Mrs. Prasad. Nor should I have mentioned Alfred Dalrymple’s unfortunate disorder in your presence. I trust you will disregard it.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“He seems to have been employed by a rum distillery in Kingston.” Tommy shrugged, as if to say cirrhosis was a natural, if not inevitable, result of the job. “Unfortunately, my informant is unable to trace the family before 1882. I expect no better of Mr. Raymond Dalrymple, due to arrive shortly from South Africa. Julian’s branch of your family, Daisy, had an unfortunate penchant for settling in turbulent regions of the world.”
SEVEN
On his arrival from South Africa, Mr. Raymond Dalrymple went to stay at the Savoy. Rather than writing to request an appointment with Tommy, he sent for him to come to the hotel.
Somewhat miffed because, after all, his client was the estate, not Mr. Raymond Dalrymple, Tommy had nonetheless heeded the call. Because he was miffed, he afterwards told Daisy all about the interview. He took her to lunch at the Old Cheshire Cheese.
“Raymond’s a businessman,” he told her. “A partner in Pritchard and Dalrymple, a member of the De Beers cartel.”
“Diamonds!”
“Buying and selling diamonds,” Tommy confirmed. “He was coming to Europe on business anyway, leaving his cousin and his son to run things in South Africa.”
“How old is he? I don’t know why I assumed he was a young man.”
“He’s in his early sixties and the son, Stanley, is in his late thirties. He presented me with their birth and marriage certificates right away, very businesslike. His credentials, he called them.”
“Early sixties…” Daisy attempted the mental maths while she started scribbling down a family branch. “His father must have been Julian’s son, then?”
“Yes, Henry by name.”
“Surely Raymond must know whether Henry was Julian’s eldest.”
“He didn’t even know his grandfather’s name, just that he was the son of an English lord. His father, Henry, was born in Jamaica, quarrelled with his father, possibly Julian, and emigrated to Cape Colony, as it was then. Henry married the daughter of a settler, Alice Pritchard. He and his brother-in-law went prospecting together, and he was killed in a brawl—”
“He told you that? I’m surprised that he’d reveal such a discreditable blot on the would-be escutcheon.”
“‘Brawl’ is my interpretation. He sounds like a thoroughly quarrelsome chap. To be precise, Raymond said the two were attacked by rival prospectors.”
“Claim jumpers. It sounds like the Wild West.”
“They were out in the wilds somewhere. No death
“She does now. The question is, should you ask her to come here right away—”
“Heaven forbid!”
“Or should you request any information she has about Samuel’s family, to be sent to you or given to your representative there. Or should you just advise her to do nothing till Samuel turns up, which for all we know could be after Geraldine’s house party. Being late wouldn’t invalidate his claim, would it?”
“No—unless, in the meantime, the College of Arms had declared someone else to be the rightful heir. But they’re never in a hurry. No, more likely, to my mind, is that he won’t turn up at all.”
“What would happen in such a case?” Sakari asked.
“Nothing, if one of the others proved his claim. But if it turns out that Samuel is descended through eldest sons from Julian, we might have to wait until he’s presumed dead.”
“Why shouldn’t he turn up?” Daisy demanded.
“I just think it’s odd that he’s been completely out of touch for so long. His grandfather’s death certificate gives the cause of death as cirrhosis of the liver. Perhaps Samuel is subject to the same weakness. He may be down-and-out in some Caribbean port, with no means or no intention of going home.”
“Facts,” Sakari reminded him tartly. “Lawyers are not supposed to have premonitions.”
“You’re quite right, Mrs. Prasad. Nor should I have mentioned Alfred Dalrymple’s unfortunate disorder in your presence. I trust you will disregard it.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“He seems to have been employed by a rum distillery in Kingston.” Tommy shrugged, as if to say cirrhosis was a natural, if not inevitable, result of the job. “Unfortunately, my informant is unable to trace the family before 1882. I expect no better of Mr. Raymond Dalrymple, due to arrive shortly from South Africa. Julian’s branch of your family, Daisy, had an unfortunate penchant for settling in turbulent regions of the world.”
SEVEN
On his arrival from South Africa, Mr. Raymond Dalrymple went to stay at the Savoy. Rather than writing to request an appointment with Tommy, he sent for him to come to the hotel.
Somewhat miffed because, after all, his client was the estate, not Mr. Raymond Dalrymple, Tommy had nonetheless heeded the call. Because he was miffed, he afterwards told Daisy all about the interview. He took her to lunch at the Old Cheshire Cheese.
“Raymond’s a businessman,” he told her. “A partner in Pritchard and Dalrymple, a member of the De Beers cartel.”
“Diamonds!”
“Buying and selling diamonds,” Tommy confirmed. “He was coming to Europe on business anyway, leaving his cousin and his son to run things in South Africa.”
“How old is he? I don’t know why I assumed he was a young man.”
“He’s in his early sixties and the son, Stanley, is in his late thirties. He presented me with their birth and marriage certificates right away, very businesslike. His credentials, he called them.”
“Early sixties…” Daisy attempted the mental maths while she started scribbling down a family branch. “His father must have been Julian’s son, then?”
“Yes, Henry by name.”
“Surely Raymond must know whether Henry was Julian’s eldest.”
“He didn’t even know his grandfather’s name, just that he was the son of an English lord. His father, Henry, was born in Jamaica, quarrelled with his father, possibly Julian, and emigrated to Cape Colony, as it was then. Henry married the daughter of a settler, Alice Pritchard. He and his brother-in-law went prospecting together, and he was killed in a brawl—”
“He told you that? I’m surprised that he’d reveal such a discreditable blot on the would-be escutcheon.”
“‘Brawl’ is my interpretation. He sounds like a thoroughly quarrelsome chap. To be precise, Raymond said the two were attacked by rival prospectors.”
“Claim jumpers. It sounds like the Wild West.”
“They were out in the wilds somewhere. No death
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