Mr Sanders took his glasses off his nose. ‘Well, this must be manna from heaven for you.’

‘Oh yes, indeed it is,’ Sebastian replied disingenuously.

‘Do you have a family of your own?’

‘No. My parents are dead and I haven’t yet managed to snare a female into starting my own dynasty.’ Sebastian grinned.

‘You were not adopted, as far as you know?’

Sebastian frowned. ‘No. At least, if I was, my parents didn’t tell me.’

‘Mmn.’ Sanders sipped his coffee slowly.

‘Are you . . . suggesting that . . .?’

‘Mr Frederiks, I’m suggesting nothing, that’s not my place. But having been forty years in my current role, one usually finds a method behind the seeming madness of such a situation. Anyway, that, my dear chap, is down to you to find out. I can only oil the legal wheels, not the human ones. Now, I will, of course, set everything down in writing to you, but I’m afraid I did have to fit you in between clients today, so if you’ll excuse me, I must say goodbye.’

Sebastian left the building in a daze. He headed straight for the nearest pub and downed a whisky to clear his head.

Had Sanders been trying to intimate that Hugh Daneman was . . . his father?

No! Surely not!

Everyone knew Hugh was an old queer. It just couldn’t be.

Perhaps it was as simple as poor old Hugh having no one left in the world. Sebastian realised Hugh had always taken a fatherly interest in him, even when he’d been a youngster at school.

He took a taxi to Liverpool Street. Now that he was going to be a man of means, he could afford the odd luxury.

He daydreamed all the way home on the train, wondering if, now he had some funds, he would stay as housemaster at St Stephen’s, or go off and travel the world . . . cricket in the West Indies, rugby in New Zealand . . . a whole raft of possibilities had opened up to him.

And what about her? What would she say when he told her? Would it mean he was finally in a position to offer her what she deserved?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jazz woke abruptly at six o’clock. The oblivion of sleep left her instantly and she jumped out of bed to check her mobile, in case she’d missed a call.

There was nothing, but her heart was pounding and she wanted to get to the hospital and see her father. Patrick stirred as she dressed hurriedly and pulled her coat on.

‘What time is it?’ he enquired drowsily.

‘Just gone six. I’m going to the hospital now.’

‘Okay. Shall I be meeting you there?’

She peeped out of the window. ‘The snow is melting fast. There’ll be no problem about getting back to London now.’

‘Jazz.’ Patrick reached out his hand to her.

She ignored it. ‘I have to go. I’ll call you when I know how Dad is.’