There were others who had a similar fortune, but Dick had no chance to speak with them. No sooner did he reach the steamer than he was taken ill, and remained ill during the whole of the homeward voyage.
After he reached Plymouth he began to recover rapidly, but he found on making inquiries that all who were rescued from the island had disembarked at the western seaport. This was very disappointing to him, as he wanted to make inquiries concerning the manner of their escape. Of Romanoff he neither heard nor saw anything. No one knew anything of him on the steamer, neither was he known to board it.
Dick was both glad and sorry because of this. Glad because, although Romanoff possessed a strange fascination for him, he had never been altogether comfortable in his presence. The man repelled him even while he fascinated him, and he felt relieved that he was not on board. On the other hand, he was sorry, because he had a feeling that this strange, saturnine man might have been a great help to him in his peculiar circumstances.
"It may be all a will-o'-the-wisp fancy," he reflected as he walked along Fleet Street towards the Law Courts, "and yet it must mean something."
His mind was in a whirl of bewilderment, for in spite of Romanoff's explanation he could not drive from his mind the belief that his experiences after the vessel was wrecked had been real. Indeed, there were times when he was sure that he had seen an angel's form hovering while he was struggling in the sea, sure that he felt strong arms upholding him.
"At any rate, this is real," he said to himself as he turned into Lincoln's Inn Fields. "I am here on dry land. I wear a suit of clothes which Captain Fraser gave me, and I have twenty-four shillings in my pocket. Whatever happens, I will at the first opportunity pay the captain for his kindness."
He entered the office and gave his name.
"Do you wish to see Mr. Bidlake or Mr. Bilton?" asked the clerk.
"Either, or both," replied Dick.
"Would you state your business, please?" The clerk did not seem to be sure of him.
"I will state my business to your principals," replied Dick. "Please take in my name."
When the clerk returned his demeanour was changed. He was obsequious and anxious to serve.
"Will you come this way, please, sir?" he said. "Mr. Bilton is in Mr. Bidlake's room, and – "
He did not finish the sentence, for the door of an office opened and a man of about fifty years of age appeared.
"Come in, Mr. Faversham," he invited. "Do you know, I've been on tenterhooks for days about you."
"I landed at Tilbury only a few hours ago."
"Is that so? But it was this way: we, of course, heard that your boat had been mined, and we also heard that a number of the passengers and crew were rescued; but news about you was contradictory. In one list of the saved your name appeared, while in another you were not mentioned. Tell us all about it."
"Another time," replied Dick. He was in a fever to know why this very respectable firm of lawyers should have sent a wireless to him.
"Yes, yes, of course," assented Mr. Bidlake, leading the way to an inner room. "Bilton, you may as well come too. My word, Mr. Faversham, I am glad to see you."
Dick felt light-hearted. Mr. Bidlake would not receive him in this fashion had there not been important reasons for doing so.
"Well now, to come to business right away," said Mr. Bidlake the moment they were seated – "you got my message?"
"Twenty-four hours before I was wrecked," replied Dick.
"Just so. You'll tell us all about that presently. My word, you must have had a terrible time! But that's by the way. You got my message, and therefore you know that your uncle, Mr. Charles Faversham, is dead?"
Dick nodded. He tried to appear calm, but his heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer.
"Of course, you know that Mr. Charles Faversham was a bachelor, and – by the way, Mr. Bilton, will you find the Faversham papers? You've had them in hand."
"Yes, my uncle was a bachelor," repeated Dick as Mr. Bidlake hesitated.
"You've never had any communications with him?"
"Never."
"A peculiar man. A genius for business, but, all the same, a peculiar man. However, I think it's all plain enough."
"What is plain enough?"
"Have you the papers, Bilton? That's good. Yes, I have everything here. This is the last will of Mr. Faversham – a plain, straightforward will in many ways, although slightly involved in others. However – "
The lawyer untied some tape, and began scanning some documents.
"However what?" asked Dick, who by this time was almost beside himself with impatience.
"By the way, you can easily put your hand on your birth certificate, as well as the death certificate of your father, I suppose?"
"Quite easily."
"Of course you can. The fact that I have known you for some time makes things far easier, far less – complicated. Otherwise a great many formalities would have to be gone into before – in short, Mr. Richard Faversham, I have great pleasure in congratulating you on being the heir to a fine fortune – a very fine fortune."
Mr. Bidlake smiled benignly.
"My uncle's fortune?"
"Your uncle's estate – yes. He was a very rich man."
"But – but – " stammered Dick.
"Yes, yes, of course, you wish for some details. This is the position. Your uncle made a will – a rather peculiar will in some ways."
"A peculiar will?" queried Dick.
"Yes – as you know, I did a great deal of work for him; but there were others. Triggs and Wilcox attended to some things, while Mortlake and Stenson also did odd jobs; but I have made all inquiries, and this is the last will he made. He wrote it himself, and it was duly witnessed. I myself have interviewed the witnesses, and there is no flaw anywhere, although, of course, this document is by no means orthodox."
"Orthodox? I don't understand."
"I mean that it is not in legal form. As a matter of fact, it is utterly informal."
"You mean that there is some doubt about it?"
"On no, by no means. It would stand good in any court of law, but, of course, all such documents are loosely worded. In case of a lawsuit it would offer occasion for many wordy battles," and Mr. Bidlake smacked his lips as though he would enjoy such an experience. "But here is the will in a nutshell," he went on. "You see, his own brother died many years ago, while your father, his stepbrother, died – let me see – how long ago? But you know. I need not go into that. As you may have heard, his sister Helen married and had children; she was left a widow, and during her widowhood she kept house for your uncle; so far so good. This is the will: all his property, excepting some small sums which are plainly stated, was left equally to his sister Helen's children, and to their heirs on their decease."
"But where do I come in?" gasped Dick.
"Here,
