“The tax men were unremarkable fellows, but I found it embarrassing to be locked up in one of the bank’s little cubbyholes with them while we counted what was in the safety-deposit box. Not that I counted; I watched. They warned me not to touch anything, which annoyed me because it suggested I might snatch a bundle of brightly coloured stock certificates and make a run for it. What was in the box was purely personal, not related to Alpha or any of the companies my father controlled. It wasn’t as personal as I feared, however; I’ve heard stories of safety-deposit boxes with locks of hair, and baby shoes, and women’s garters, and God knows what in them. But there was nothing of that sort. Only shares and bonds amounting to a very large amount, which the tax men counted and inventoried carefully.

“One of the things that bothered me was that these men, obviously not paid much, were cataloguing what was in itself a considerable fortune: what did they think? Were they envious? Did they hate me? Were they glorying in their authority? Were they conscious of putting down the mighty from their seat and exalting the humble and meek? They looked crusty and non-committal, but what was going on in their heads?

“It took most of the morning and I had nothing whatever to do but watch, which I found exhausting because of the reflections it provoked. It was the kind of situation that leads one to trite philosophizing: here is what remains of a very large part of a life’s effort—that kind of thing. Now and then I thought about the chairmanship of Castor, and a phrase I hadn’t heard since my law-student days came into my head and wouldn’t be driven out. Damnosa hereditas; a ruinous inheritance. It’s a phrase from Roman Law; comes in Gaius’s Institutes, and means exactly what it says. Castor could very well be that to me because it is big already, and with what will come into it from my father’s estate it will be a very large charitable foundation even by American standards, and being the head of it will devour time and energy and could very well be the end of the kind of career I have tried to make for myself. Damnosa hereditas. Did he mean it that way? Probably not. One must assume the best. Still—

“I gave George lunch, then marched off like a little soldier to talk to Denyse and Caroline about the will. They had had a chance to go over their own copies, and Beesty had explained most of it, but he isn’t a lawyer and they had a lot of points they wanted clarified. And of course there was a row, because I think Denyse had expected some capital, and in fairness I must say that she was within her rights to do so. What really burned her, I think, was that there was nothing for her daughter Lorene, though what she had been left for herself would have been more than enough to take care of all that. Lorene is soft in the head, you see, though Denyse pretends otherwise, and she will have to be looked after all her life. Although Lorene’s name was never mentioned, I could sense her presence; she had called my father Daddy-Boy, and Daddy-Boy hadn’t lived up to expectation.