Uncle Julian is dead.
That was the message in the letter from his solicitors, Wargraves and Cleaves.
Jeremy and Pruella didn’t know what to think at first. They hardly knew their great uncle who lived on the Isle of Wexford. Rumor had it he was “off his head” the last few years, though he’s never really been “all there”. But he was rich, and they were two of his last relations.
Besides Jeremy and his sister Pruella, there was Horace Elbens, a distant cousin. Sort of a catamount. Stories have trickled East that he’s been the source of a police inquiry or two. And then there was cousin Trevor Eubanks, a dark horse who left the family abode after a heated game of Whist and a little too much drink. Nobody is quite sure if he’s still alive.
The letter came in this morning’s post, and, in addition to its declaration, it offered a mystery. It seems that in these troubled times, Uncle Julian didn’t trust his treasures to banks. In his final instructions, Julian has willed his fortune to his remaining living kin… as long as they can find it.
Four treasure chests have been hidden in the vicinity of the family manse with clues to be distributed in scheduled intervals. The first to find will be rewarded while the Johnny-come-lately can only smile at their missed opportunity.
“What a lark!” shouted Pruella. It’s been ages since she could afford an evening out or a new frock. Jeremy was thinking of the pile of bills after that disastrous trip to Northville Downs.
Attached to the solicitors’ letter was a map with the first clues. Clearing the detritus off the tea table, Jeremy and Pruella spread the map open and eagerly bent over in singular concentration.
