Still, my London solicitors had never voiced a complaint about his handling of my California affairs, and I knew them to be scrupulous: The senior partner of that firm had been in love (secretly, he thought) with my mother, and had transferred his loyalty wholeheartedly to her daughter.

I settled into my chair, accepted the compulsory cup of weak American coffee, and made meaningless small talk for precisely three and a half minutes before Norbert eased us into business matters.

My California representatives had long been pleading that I apply my attentions to the holdings I had inherited in the state; having seen the house, I could only pray my other possessions were not as derelict. However, it soon appeared that the need for my presence was more for the sake of long-term decisions, re-investments and liquidations that I alone could make. What most of them boiled down to was, if I wasn't going to take an active rôle in the running of this factory, that company, and the other investment, I should sell my interests and move on.

Which was just what I had in mind.

We set up a number of appointments for the coming days so I could meet with my managers and directors. Looking at the brief synopses of figures Norbert laid before me, one after another, I had to agree: Electrical companies and copper mines did not run themselves for too long before they began to suffer from inattention, and thousands of acres of land adjacent to the recently discovered oil fields in southern California weren't going to join the boom without some help.

At the end of a long morning, Norbert pushed back in his chair with a sigh and stood. “Time for another cup of coffee,” he pronounced, and went out of the door. I heard him speaking with his secretary for a moment, heard too the flush of distant waters a minute later. He returned with the secretary on his heels.

He poured the watery brown liquid, offered cream, sugar, and biscuits, then settled for a carefully measured five minutes of closing conversation. I broke it after one.

“Mr Norbert, I have to say you've done wonders with the entire estate. It couldn't have been easy, at this distance.” I laid my spoon into the bone-china saucer. “However, that makes it all the more puzzling that the house has been allowed to go to ruin.” I told him the outline of our adventures the previous evening, and he produced little noises of distress at our meeting with the police. I ended by repeating my comment about the state of the house, which observation he met with a sympathetic shake of the head.

“Terrible, isn't it?” he agreed, looking not in the least shame-faced. “Such a pity. But I hadn't much of a choice, really; the will was very clear on that.”

“The will,” I repeated.

“Yes, your father's will. Parents', I should say. Don't tell me you haven't seen it?”