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“Frankly, Mr. Billingsley,” said Inspector Neele, “we need all the help we can get.”
“You can count on me, my dear sir. I shall be only too happy to assist you in every way I can.”
“First let me ask you how well you knew the late Mr. Fortescue, and how well do you know the affairs of his firm?”
“I knew Rex Fortescue fairly well. That is to say I’ve known him for a period of, well, sixteen years I should say. Mind you, we are not the only firm of solicitors he employed, not by a long way.”
Inspector Neele nodded. He knew that. Billingsley, Horsethorpe & Walters were what one might describe as Rex Fortescue’s reputable solicitors. For his less reputable dealings he had employed several different and slightly less scrupulous firms.
“Now what do you want to know?” continued Mr. Billingsley. “I’ve told you about his will. Percival Fortescue is the residuary legatee.”
“I’m interested now,” said Inspector Neele, “in the will of his widow. On Mr. Fortescue’s death she came into the sum of one hundred thousand pounds, I understand?”
Billingsley nodded his head.
“A considerable sum of money,” he said, “and I may tell you in confidence, Inspector, that it is one the firm could ill have afforded to pay out.”
“The firm, then, is not prosperous?”
“Frankly,” said Mr. Billingsley, “and strictly between ourselves, it’s drifting onto the rocks and has been for the last year and a half.”
“For any particular reason?”
“Why yes. I should say the reason was Rex Fortescue himself. For the last year Rex Fortescue’s been acting like a madman. Selling good stock here, buying speculative stuff there, talking big about it all the time in the most extraordinary way. Wouldn’t listen to advice. Percival—the son, you know—he came here urging me to use my influence with his father. He’d tried, apparently and been swept aside. Well, I did what I could, but Fortescue wouldn’t listen to reason. Really, he seems to have been a changed man.”
“But not, I gather, a depressed man,” said Inspector Neele.
“No, no. Quite the contrary. Flamboyant, bombastic.”
Inspector Neele nodded. An idea which had already taken form in his mind was strengthened. He thought he was beginning to understand some of the causes of friction between Percival and his father. Mr. Billingsley was continuing:
“But it’s no good asking me about the wife’s will. I didn’t make any will for her.”
“No. I know that,” said Neele. “I’m merely verifying that she had something to leave. In short, a hundred thousand pounds.”
Mr. Billingsley was shaking his head violently.
“No, no, my dear sir. You’re wrong there.”
“Do you mean the hundred thousand pounds was only left to her for her lifetime?”
“No—no—it was left to her outright. But there was a clause in the will governing that bequest. That is to say, Fortescue’s wife did not inherit the sum unless she survived him for one month. That, I may say, is a clause fairly common nowadays. It has come into operation owing to the uncertainties of air travel. If two people are killed in an air accident, it becomes exceedingly difficult to say who was the survivor and a lot of very curious problems arise.”
Inspector Neele was staring at him.
“Then Adele Fortescue had not got a hundred thousand pounds to leave. What happens to that money?”
“It goes back into the firm. Or rather, I should say, it goes to the residuary legatee.”
“And the residuary legatee is Mr. Percival Fortescue.”
“That’s right,” said Billingsley, “it goes to Percival Fortescue. And with the state the firm’s affairs are in,” he added unguardedly, “I should say that he’ll need it!”
IV
“The things you policemen want to know,” said Inspector Neele’s doctor friend.
“Come on, Bob, spill it.”
“Well, as we’re alone together you can’t quote me, fortunately! But I should say, you know, that your idea’s dead right. GPI by the sound of it all. The family suspected it and wanted to get him to see a doctor. He wouldn’t. It acts just in the way you describe. Loss of judgment, megalomania, violent fits of irritation and anger—boastfulness—delusions of grandeur—of being a great financial genius. Anyone suffering from that would soon put a solvent firm on the rocks—unless he could be restrained—and that’s not so easy to do—especially if the man himself has an idea of what you’re after. Yes—I should say it was a bit of luck for your friends that he died.”
“They’re no friends of mine,” said Neele. He repeated what he had once said before:
“They’re all very unpleasant people. . . .”
Chapter Nineteen
In the drawing room at Yewtree Lodge, the whole Fortescue family was assembled. Percival Fortescue, leaning against the mantelpiece, was addressing the meeting.
“It’s all very well,” said Percival. “But the whole position is most unsatisfactory. The police come and go and don’t tell us anything. One supposes they’re pursuing some line of research. In the meantime everything’s at a standstill. One can’t make plans, one can’t arrange things for the future.”
“It’s all so inconsiderate,” said Jennifer. “And so stupid.”
“There still seems to be this ban against anyone leaving the house,” went on Percival. “Still, I think among ourselves we might discuss future plans. What about you, Elaine? I gather you’re going to marry—what’s-his-name—Gerald Wright? Have you any idea when?”
“As soon as possible,” said Elaine.
Percival frowned.
“You mean, in about six months’ time?”
“No, I don’t. Why should we wait six months?”
“I think it would be more decent,” said Percival.
“Rubbish,” said Elaine. “A month. That’s the longest we’ll wait.”
“Well, it’s for you to say,” said Percival. “And what are your plans when you are married, if you have any?”
“We’re thinking of starting a school.”
Percival shook his head.
“That’s a very risky speculation in these times. What with the shortage of domestic labour, the difficulty of getting an adequate teaching staff—really, Elaine, it sounds all right. But I should think twice about it if I were you.”
“We have thought. Gerald feels that the whole future of this country lies in right education.”
“I am seeing Mr. Billingsley the day after tomorrow,” said Percival. “We’ve got to go into various questions of finance. He was suggesting that you might like to make this money that’s been left to you by Father into a trust for yourself and your children. It’s a very sound thing to do nowadays.”
“I don’t want to do that,” said Elaine. “We shall need the money to start up our school. There’s a very suitable house we’ve heard of for sale. It’s in Cornwall. Beautiful grounds and quite a good house. It would have to be built onto a good deal—several wings added.”
“You mean—you mean you’re going to take all your money out of the business? Really, Elaine, I don’t think you’re wise.”
“Much wiser to take it out than leave it in, I should say,” said Elaine. “Businesses are going phut all over the place. You said yourself, Val, before Father died, that things were getting into a pretty bad state.”
“One says that sort of thing,” said Percival vaguely, “but I must say, Elaine, to take out all your capital and sink it in the buying, equipping and running of a school is crazy. If it’s not a success, look what happens? You’re left without a penny.”
“It will be a success,” said Elaine, doggedly.
“I’m with you.” Lance, lying spr
awled out in a chair, spoke up encouragingly. “Have a crack at it, Elaine. In my opinion it’ll be a damned odd sort of school, but it’s what you want to do—you and Gerald. If you do lose your money you’ll at any rate have had the satisfaction of doing what you wanted to do.”
“Just what one might have expected you to say, Lance,” said Percival, acidly.
“I know, I know,” said Lance. “I’m the spendthrift prodigal son. But I still think I’ve had more fun out of life than you have, Percy, old boy.”
“It depends on what you call fun,” said Percival coldly. “Which brings us to your own plans, Lance. I suppose you’ll be off again back to Kenya—or Canada—or climbing Mount Everest or something fairly fantastic?”
“Now what makes you think that?” said Lance.
“Well, you’ve never had much use for a stay-at-home life in England, have you?”
“One changes as one gets older,” said Lance. “One settles down. D’you know, Percy my boy, I’m quite looking forward to having a crack at being a sober business man.”
“Do you mean. . . .”
“I mean I’m coming into the firm with you, old boy.” Lance grinned. “Oh, you’re the senior partner, of course. You’ve got the lion’s share. I’m only a very junior partner. But I have got a holding in it that gives me the right to be in on things, doesn’t it?”
“Well—yes—of course, if you put it that way. But I can assure you, my dear boy, you’ll be very, very bored.”
“I wonder now. I don’t believe I shall be bored.”
Percival frowned.
“You don’t seriously mean, Lance, that you’re coming into the business?”
“Having a finger in the pie? Yes, that’s exactly what I am doing.”
Percival shook his head.
“Things are in a very bad way, you know. You’ll find that out. It’s going to be about all we can do to pay out Elaine her share, if she insists on having it paid out.”
“There you are, Elaine,” said Lance. “You see how wise you were to insist on grabbing your money while it’s still there to grab.”
