place. That would go along with his knowledge of curses.â He chuckled. âYour uncle has hidden it well. And so, the mystery survivesâand the ghost tale? Your descendants will have quite a story to pass on, Cousin Rogan. It should give them hours of amusement fifty to a hundred years from now. Who knows? Maybe one of
them
will find the Kimberly Diamond!â
âIâll keep that in mind.â Rogan held the door open, pointedly.
âYes, well, good night.â
âYou can find your bedroom all right?â Rogan inquired innocently.
Heyden laughed. âYes, second floor, fifth door. You and your father have been kind hosts.â He bowed lightly, turned, and left the room, going down the steps.
Rogan was not smiling as he listened to Heydenâs steps fade away. His heart was thuddingânot about the Black Diamond, but about Henryâs map. Words that awakened him ran through his mind again and again:
He could have hidden it anywhere on Rookswood, including the estate grounds⦠A man could spend his entire life just searching⦠In a mansion this size it could be anywhere. We could tear it apart stone by stone and not find it
.
Of course! Henry was no fool. Why didnât I think of this sooner?
Henry had willed Rogan the map because he
wanted
him to find it and use it. It would have defeated his purpose to hide it so well that he would have no clue where to look.
âAnd he didnât,â Rogan murmured decisively.
He stood still, considering again every meeting heâd had with Henry here in this room. He had often come here, and Henry had filled his ears with adventurous tales of Africa.
âThereâs gold north of the Crocodile River, Rogan. Plenty of it. Enough to make a man a gold rand. Here, take a look at this.â He placed a rock in his hand. âKeep it. I may never go again. But you will. This is a sample. And Iâve drawn a map from memory that will help you find it. I wish I could have drawn a more detailed map, but we were under attack. We had to get out of there fast. My guide, Bertrand Mornay, was killed. Youâve heard me talk about him before? Yes, a solid man. A
Frenchie
. There was no better hunter-guide than he. The little Hottentot, Sam, was the one who told me about the gold, but he was killed too. Iâve done my best in drawing the location, but details fade in the heat of battle. By the time I made it out alive to Kimberly, the memory of its location was already a bit muddled. The shock and terror offighting do that to a man. The bloody deaths of close friends. But the map has enough information for you to stake a claim if you use that head of yours. You take after me, Rogan. Youâll do it. Iâll wager my reputation on you, boy. Just wait till you grow up.â
Henry had taken him by the arm and led him into the other room. âRemember, boy, if something happens to me, Iâve left the map to you. Iâll mention that in my will. And the picture I painted⦠Take a good look at it. Remember it, Rogan. Itâs yours, understand? That will be mentioned in my will too. You do understand, donât you, boy?â
Yes, finallyâ¦now I understand
.
Rogan shut the door and slid the bolt securely closed. His mind grabbed hold of the realization and wouldnât let go. He laughed at himself for having been dense for so long.
Rogan went straight across the room toward the small bedroom Henry had used when working late at night and entered.
This was where heâd hidden Evy the time Uncle Julien surprised them by coming here.
Rogan looked straight at the painting on the wall, the one Henry had willed to him along with the map. Henry said he had painted it upon returning to Rookswood after the Zulu massacre at Rorkeâs Drift. Rogan stared, as if seeing it for the first time. He remembered Henry pointing at it, telling him the details again and again. The battle of Isandlwana, Rorkeâs Drift,
Kami García, Margaret Stohl