فصل 40

CHAPTER 40

“Oh dear.” Mr. Treswick removed his glasses and polished them, though they were quite clean already, from what Hal could make out. “Oh dear, oh dear. This is most awkward.” “Please.” Hal put out a hand. “Please, it’s my fault. I should have—I should have said something earlier.”

“I blame myself, very much,” Mr. Treswick was saying, as if he hadn’t heard. “I must say, it absolutely never occurred to me that Maggie’s name was Margarida too. I knew of course that there had been a cousin, but everyone referred to her as Maggie, and I’m afraid I simply assumed her full name was Margaret. Oh dear, this is extremely problematic.” “But the legacy cannot stand, presumably?” Harding said impatiently. “That’s surely the main thing?”

“I will have to take advice,” Mr. Treswick said. “My instinct is to say that no, it does not stand, since Mrs. Westaway clearly meant the legacy to pass to her daughter’s child. But the fact that Harriet is named along with her address . . . oh dear. This is very knotty indeed.” “Well . . .” Ezra rose and stretched, so that Harriet heard his spine and shoulders cracking. “We’ve done all we can to sort this out for the moment, so I suggest we leave it to the lawyers now.” “I will be in touch with you all,” Mr. Treswick said slowly. His brow was furrowed, and Hal felt deeply sorry for him, as he lifted his glasses to rub at the place where the rests pinched the sides of his nose. “There may be quite some disentangling to do, I’m afraid.” “I’m so sorry,” Hal said, and she had no need to fake the miserable compunction in her tone. She wished, more than anything, that there was a way to tell him of her own complicity in this, without ending up as part of a prosecution, but she couldn’t risk it. Better to cling to the shaky pretense that this was all an innocent mistake, though she was beginning to wonder how long that edifice could hold up. “Good-bye, Mr. Treswick.” “Good-bye, Harriet.”

She nodded and stood, and he took her hand. At first she thought he was going to shake it, but he did not; he simply held it, rather gently, and when at last she smiled and pulled away, she thought for a moment that he did not want to let her go. It was a disquieting thought, the memory of his dry, old fingers holding hers rather insistently, and it stayed with her as she followed Harding down the hallway back to reception, wondering . . . wondering. . . .

At the end of the corridor, Hal looked back, and she saw that he was still there, standing in the doorway of his office, his gaze somber, and Hal found herself pondering his expression as she passed through the doorway after Harding, back into the bright, crowded little reception area.

The door swung shut behind her, but she could not resist one last glance back as it closed, to see him still standing there, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. She could not escape the idea that there was something else Mr. Treswick would have said, if he could. Something more. But what?