Caroline McKenna gazed from the veranda at the gardens that seemed to stretch endlessly into the English countryside. ‘It isn’t that I don’t like it here,’ she said. ‘It’s beautiful. And visiting my uncle is always a pleasure. It’s simply that I don’t understand why he invited me.’
‘Why he invited you?’ said James Blaze. ‘At least you’re his niece. You have some family connection here. Why did he invite me—that’s the mystery.’
‘We were to learn something,’ Caroline said. ‘Something that would amaze us. And my uncle would—well, you know what he wrote. His letter to you was the same as his letter to me.’
The young American lifted himself from the chair with an easy grace and stood beside Caroline. ‘He’d be able to die in peace,’ he said. ‘Knowing that he had discharged a promise made by his ancestor a hundred and twenty years ago.’
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