Jack asked incredulously, "He trusted the child with the two people he
suspected of having caused the mother's death?"
"Once when I was his assistant," Mrs. Kesserich said softly, "I
carelessly broke some laboratory glassware. He kept me up all night
building a new setup, though I'm rather poor at working with glass and
usually get burned. Bringing up the child was his sisters' punishment."
"And they went to that house on the farthest island? I suppose it was
the house he'd been building for Mary and himself."
"Yes."
"And they were to bring up the child as his daughter?"
Mrs. Kesserich started up, but when she spoke it was as if she had to
force out each word. "As his wife--as soon as she was grown."
"How can you know that?" Jack asked shakily.
The rising wind rattled the windowpane.
"Because today--eighteen years after--Martin broke all of his promise
to me. He told me he was leaving me."