'The answer to your second question is that you have no personal or legal obligations to Mr. Henry Osborne at all. Under the terms of your fathers will, you mother is a trustee of the estate along vrith a Mr. Alan Lloyd and a Mrs. John Preston, your surviving godparents, until you come of age at twenty - one!

Thomas Cohen looked up again. William's face showed no expression at all.

Cohen had already learned that that meant he should continue.

'And thirdly, Mr. Kane, you can never remove Mr. Osborne from Beacon Hill as long as he remains married to your mother and continues to reside with her.. The property comes into your possession by natural right on her death. Were he'still alive then, you could require him to leave. I think you will find that covers all your questions, Mr. Kane!

'Tha.nk you, Mr. Cohen,'said William. 'I am obliged for your efficiency and discretion in this matter. Now perhaps you could let me know your professional charges?'

'One hundred dollars doesn't quite cover the work, Mr. Kane, but we have faith in your future and . . .'

'I do not wish to be beholden to anyone, Mr. Cohen, You must treat me as someone with whom you might never deal again. With that in mind, how much do I owe you?'

Mr. Cohen considered the matter for a moment. 'In those circumstances we would have charged you two hundred and twenty dollars, Mr. Kane.'

William took six twenty - dollar notes from his inside pocket and handed them over to Cohen. This time, the lawyer did not count them.

'I am grateful to you for your assistance, Mr. Cohen, I am sure we shall meet again. Good day, sir.'

VrDod day, Mr. Kane. May I be permitted to say that I never had the privilege of meeting your distinguished father but having dealt with you, I wish that I had.'

William smiled and softened. 'Thank you, sir!

Preparing for the baby kept Anne fully occupied; she found herself easily tired and resting a good deal. Whenever she enquired of Henry how business was going, he always had some plausible answer to hand, enough to reassure her that all was well without supplying her with any actual details.

Then one morning the anonymous letters started coming again. This time they gave more details, the names of the women involved and the places they could be seen with Henry. Anne burned them even before she could commit the names or places to memory. She didn't want to believe that her husband could be unfaithful while she was carrying his child. Someone was jealous and had it in for Henry, and he or she had to be lying.

The letters kept coming, sometimes with new names. Anne continued to destroy them, but now they were beginning to prey on her mind. She wanted to discuss the whole problem with someone, but couldn't think of anybody in whom she could confide. The grandmothers would have been appalled and were, in any case, already prejudiced against Henry. Alan Lloyd at the bank could not be expected to understand as he had never married, and William was far too young. No one seemed suitable. Anne considered consulting a psychiatrist after listening to a lectum given by Sigmund Freud, but a Lowell could never discuss a family problem with a complete stranger.

The matter finally came to a head in a way that even Anne had not been prepaxed for. One Monday morning, she received three letters, the usual one from William addressed to Mrs - Richard Kane, asking if he could once again spend his surnmer holidays with his friend Matthew Lester in New York. Another anonymous letter alleging that Henry was having an affair with, with ... Milly Preston, and the third from Alan Lloyd, as chairman of the bank, asking if she would be kind enough to telephone and make an appointment to see him. Anne sat down heavily, feeling breathless and unwell, and forced herself to re - read all three letters. William's letter stung her by its detachment. She hated knowing that he preferred to spend his holidays with Matthew Lester. They had been growing continually further apart since her marriage to Henry. The anonymous letter suggesting that Henry was having an affair with her clossest friend was impossible to ignore. Anne couldn't help remembering that it had been Milly who had introduced her to Henry in the first place, and that she was William's godmother. The third letter from Alan Lloyd somehow filled her with even more apprehension. The only other letter she had ever received from Alan was one of condolence on the death of Richard.

She feared another could only mean more bad news.

She called the bank. The operator put her straight through..

'Alan, you, wanted to see me?'

'Yes, my dear, I would like to have a chat sometime. When would suit you?'

'Is it bad news?'asked Anne.

'Not exactly, but I would rather not say anything over the phone, but there's nothing for you to worry about. Are you free for lunch, by any chance?'