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Justin hadn't been upset about it because he always expected things to "come around," but the turnaround had not yet come. In fact it hadn't come in several years, and he had been living on credit for too long. Everything he owned was heavily mortgaged or had been put up as collateral and it turned out that he had fabulous loans to repay. His last advances had all been spent, on cars--like the new Bentley, and then shortly afterward the 1934 Rolls--antiques, racehorses, women, trips, houses, furs, Bettina, himself. The winter before he had bought the country's most extravagant Thoroughbred from a friend. Two point seven million he had paid for it, the papers had said. In fact it had been slightly more, and the friend had allowed him to defer payment for a year. The year wasn't yet over, and tie debt was still unpaid. He knew he would cover it, there would be more advances, and he had his royalties, which never failed to come in, in six-figure checks. What Ivo and Bettina then learned as they sat there was that even his future royalties had been borrowed against, from some of his wealthier friends. He had borrowed to the hilt from everyone, bankers, as well as friends, against real property, future income, and dreams. What had happened to his investments, to the snatches of conversations she had heard about "sure things"? As the hours with the attorneys wore on, it became clear that there were no sure things, except his astronomical debts, they were sure. He had kept much of his borrowing private. He had dispensed with his investment advisers years ago, calling them fools. It became increasingly confusing and Bettina sat baffled and stunned. It was impossible to make heads or tails out of what they were saying except that it would take months to sort it all out and that the vast estate of the illustrious, charming, celebrated, much adored Justin Daniels amounted not to a king's ransom, but to a mountain of debt.
    Bettina looked at Ivo in confusion, and he looked at her in despair. He felt as though he had just aged another ten years.
    "And the houses?" Ivo looked at the senior attorney with fear.
    "Well have to look into that, but I assume that they'll all have to be sold. We've been recommending that course of action to Mister Daniels for almost two years now. As a matter of fact it's quite possible that once we sell the houses, and ... er"--there was an embarassed cough--"several of the antiques and artifacts in Mister Daniels's New York apartment, it's possible that we will have brought matters back into the black."
    "Will there be anything left?"
    "That's difficult to say at the moment." But the look on his face told its own tale.
    "What you're saying then"--Ivo's voice was tense and angry, and he wasn't sure if he was angrier at Justin or his lawyers--"is that after all is said and done, there won't be anything left except the apartment here in New York. No stocks, no bonds, no investments, nothing?"
    "I believe that will prove to be correct." The elderly man fingered his glasses uncomfortably, while his junior partner cleared his throat and tried not to look at the slender young girl.
    "Was there no provision made for Miss Daniels?" Ivo couldn't believe it.
    But the lawyer spoke one word. "None."
    "I see."
    "Of course there was"--the senior partner checked some papers on his desk--"a sum of eighteen thousand dollars in Mister Daniels's checking account on the day he died. We have to clear probate of course, but we would be happy to advance a small sum of money to Miss Daniels in the interim, to enable her to pay whatever living expenses--" But Ivo was steaming by now.
    "That won't be necessary." Ivo snapped closed his briefcase and picked up his coat. "Just how long do you think it will take to let us know where things stand?"
    The two lawyers exchanged a glance. "About three months?"
    "How about one?" Ivo's look was not one to quibble with, and unhappily the elder attorney nodded.
    "We'll try. We do understand that the