When I was very young, I once spent a summer afternoon with an old lady, in her old summer house in PEI. She said she knew Rachmaninoff very well, and was his cousin. I wasn’t quite sure whether to believe it. She wrote her name for me and said I should call her in New York. I kept that slip of paper in my wallet for many years. I wanted to call, but never did. The name read “Kyriena Siloti”. Now I know that she was the daughter of Alexander Siloti.