The Scarletti Inheritance - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,7

briefcase.'

Young Scarlett fingered the clasps and they shot up. 'I didn't believe you last night, you know,' he said quietly while he opened the lid of the briefcase.

'That's not surprising.'

'No. Not about him. I believe that part because it answered a lot of questions about you.' He turned and looked at the older man. 'Well, not questions really, because I always thought I knew why you acted the way you did. I figured you just resented the Scarletts... Not me. The Scarletts. Uncle Chancellor, Aunt Allison, all the kids. You and Mom always laughed at all of them. So did I... I remember how painful it was for you to tell me why my last name couldn't be the same as yours. Remember that?'

'Painfully.' Canfield smiled gently.

'But the last couple of years... you changed. You got pretty vicious about the Scarletts. You hated it every time anyone mentioned the Scarlatti companies. You'd fly off the handle whenever the Scarlatti lawyers made appointments to discuss me with you and Mom. She got angry with you and said you were unreasonable... Only she was wrong. I understand now... So you see, I'm prepared to believe whatever's in here.' He closed the lid on the briefcase.

'It won't be easy for you.'

'It isn't easy now, and I'm just getting over the first shock.' He tried lamely to smile. 'Anyway, I'll learn to live with it, I guess... I never knew him. He was never anything to me. I never paid much attention to Uncle Chancellor's stories. You see, I didn't want to know anything. Do you know why?'

The major watched the young man closely. 'No, I don't,' he replied.

'Because I never wanted to belong to anyone but you... and Janet.'

Oh God in your protective heaven, thought Canfield. 'I've got to go.' He started once again for the door

'Not yet. We haven't settled anything.'

'There's nothing to settle.'

'You haven't heard what it was I didn't believe last night..'

Canfield stopped, his hand on the doorknob 'What?'

'That mother doesn't know about him.'

Canfield removed his hand from the knob and stood by the door. When he spoke his voice was low and controlled. 'I was hoping to avoid this until later Until you d read the file.'

'It's got to be now or I don't want the file. If anything's going to be kept from her, I want to know why before I go any further.'

The major came back into the center of the room. 'What do you want me to tell you? That it would kill her to find out?'

'Would it?'

'Probably not. But I haven't the courage to test that.'

'How long have you known?'

Canfield walked to the window. The children had left the park. The gate was closed.

'On June twelfth nineteen thirty six I made positive identification I amended the file a year and a half later on January second nineteen thirty eight.'

'Jesus Christ.'

'Yes Jesus Christ.'

'And you never told her?'

'No.'

'Dad why not?'

'I could give you twenty or thirty impressive reasons.' said Canfield as he continued looking down at Gramercy Park. 'But three have always stuck out in my mind. First - he'd done enough to her, he was her own personal hell. Second - once your grandmother died no one else alive could identify him. And the third reason - your mother took my word that I'd killed him.'

'You!'

The major turned from the window. 'Yes. Me. I believed I had. Enough so that I forced twenty two witnesses to sign affidavits that he was dead. I bought a corrupt court outside of Zurich to issue the certificate of death. All very legal. That June morning in thirty six when I found out the truth we were at the bay house and I was on the patio having coffee. You and your mother were hosing down a catboat and calling for me to put it in the water. You kept splashing her with the hose and she laughed and shrieked and ran around the boat with you following her. She was so happy. 'I didn't tell her I'm not proud of myself but there it is.'

The young man sat down in the chair next to the table. He started to speak several times, but each time the words fell short of making sense.

Canfield spoke quietly 'Are you sure you want to belong to me?'

The boy looked up from the chair. 'You must have loved her a lot.'

'I still do.'

'Then I still want to belong to you.'

The shaded understatement of the young man's voice nearly caused Canfield to break. But he