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‘The lawyer told us it will come to about eighty thousand pounds after the death duties are paid.’
Sir Edward opened his eyes in some slight surprise. ‘That is quite a considerable sum. You knew, I suppose, the total of your aunt’s fortune?’
Magdalen shook her head. ‘No – it came quite as a surprise to us. Aunt Lily was always terribly careful about money. She kept just the one servant and always talked a lot about economy.’
Sir Edward nodded thoughtfully. Magdalen leaned forward a little in her chair.
‘You will help me – you will?’
Her words came to Sir Edward as an unpleasant shock just at the moment when he was becoming interested in her story for its own sake.
‘My dear young lady – what can I possibly do? If you want good legal advice, I can give you the name –’
She interrupted him.
‘Oh! I don’t want that sort of thing! I want you to help me personally – as a friend.’
‘That’s very charming of you, but –’
‘I want you to come to our house. I want you to ask questions. I want you to see and judge for yourself.’
‘But my dear young –’
‘Remember, you promised. Anywhere – any time – you said, if I wanted help . . .’
Her eyes, pleading yet confident, looked into his. He felt ashamed and strangely touched. That terrific sincerity of hers, that absolute belief in an idle promise, ten years old, as a sacred binding thing. How many men had not said those self-same words – a cliché almost! – and how few of them had ever been called upon to make good.
He said rather weakly: ‘I’m sure there are many people who could advise you better than I could.’
‘I’ve got lots of friends – naturally.’ (He was amused by the naïve self-assurance of that.) ‘But you see, none of them are clever. Not like you. You’re used to questioning people. And with all your experience you must know.’
‘Know what?’
‘Whether they’re innocent or guilty.’
He smiled rather grimly to himself. He flattered himself that on the whole he usually had known! Though, on many occasions, his private opinion had not been that of the jury.
Magdalen pushed back her hat from her forehead with a nervous gesture, looked round the room, and said:
‘How quiet it is here. Don’t you sometimes long for some noise?’ The cul-de-sac! All unwittingly her words, spoken at random, touched him on the raw. A cul-de-sac. Yes, but there was always a way out – the way you had come – the way back into the world . . . Something impetuous and youthful stirred in him. Her simple trust appealed to the best side of his nature – and the condition of her problem appealed to something else – the innate criminologist in him. He wanted to see these people of whom she spoke. He wanted to form his own judgement.
He said: ‘If you are really convinced I can be of any use . . . Mind, I guarantee nothing.’
He expected her to be overwhelmed with delight, but she took it very calmly.
‘I knew you would do it. I’ve always thought of you as a real friend. Will you come back with me now?’
‘No. I think if I pay you a visit tomorrow it will be more satisfactory. Will you give me the name and address of Miss Crabtree’s lawyer? I may want to ask him a few questions.’
She wrote it down and handed it to him. Then she got up and said rather shyly:
‘I – I’m really most awfully grateful. Goodbye.’
‘And your own address?’
‘How stupid of me. 18 Palatine Walk, Chelsea.’
It was three o’clock on the following afternoon when Sir Edward Palliser approached 18 Palatine Walk with a sober, measured tread. In the interval he had found out several things. He had paid a visit that morning to Scotland Yard, where the Assistant Commissioner was an old friend of his, and he had also had an interview with the late Miss Crabtree’s lawyer. As a result he had a clearer vision of the circumstances. Miss Crabtree’s arrangements in regard to money had been somewhat peculiar. She never made use of a cheque-book. Instead she was in the habit of writing to her lawyer and asking him to have a certain sum in five-pound notes waiting for her. It was nearly always the same sum. Three hundred pounds four times a year. She came to fetch it herself in a four-wheeler which she regarded as the only safe means of conveyance. At other times she never left the house.
At Scotland Yard Sir Edward learned that the question of finance had been gone into very carefully. Miss Crabtree had been almost due for her next instalment of money. Presumably the previous three hundred had been spent – or almost spent. But this was exactly the point that had not been easy to ascertain. By checking the household expenditure, it was soon evident that Miss Crabtree’s expenditure per quarter fell a good deal short of three hundred pounds. On the other hand she was in the habit of sending five-pound notes away to needy friends or relatives. Whether there had been much or little money in the house at the time of her death was a debatable point. None had been found.
It was this particular point which Sir Edward was revolving in his mind as he approached Palatine Walk.
The door of the house (which was a non-basement one) was opened to him by a small elderly woman with an alert gaze. He was shown into a big double room on the left of the small hallway and there Magdalen came to him. More clearly than before, he saw the traces of nervous strain in her face.
‘You told me to ask questions, and I have come to do so,’ said Sir Edward, smiling as he shook hands. ‘First of all I want to know who last saw your aunt and exactly what time that was?’
‘It was after tea – five o’clock. Martha was the last person with her. She had been paying the books that afternoon, and brought Aunt Lily the change and the accounts.’
‘You trust Martha?’
‘Oh, absolutely. She was with Aunt Lily for – oh! thirty years, I suppose. She’s honest as the day.’
Sir Edward nodded.
‘Another question. Why did your cousin, Mrs Crabtree, take a headache powder?’
‘Well, because she had a headache.’
‘Naturally, but was there any particular reason why she should have a headache?’
‘Well, yes, in a way. There was rather a scene at lunch. Emily is very excitable and highly strung. She and Aunt Lily used to have rows sometimes.’
‘And they had one at lunch?’
‘Yes. Aunt Lily was rather trying about little things. It all started out of not
hing – and then they were at it hammer and tongs – with Emily saying all sorts of things she couldn’t possibly have meant – that she’d leave the house and never come back – that she was grudged every mouthful she ate – oh! all sorts of silly things. And Aunt Lily said the sooner she and her husband packed their boxes and went the better. But it all meant nothing, really.’
‘Because Mr and Mrs Crabtree couldn’t afford to pack up and go?’
‘Oh, not only that. William was fond of Aunt Emily. He really was.’
‘It wasn’t a day of quarrels by any chance?’
Magdalen’s colour heightened. ‘You mean me? The fuss about my wanting to be a mannequin?’
‘Your aunt wouldn’t agree?’
‘No.’
‘Why did you want to be a mannequin, Miss Magdalen? Does the life strike you as a very attractive one?’
‘No, but anything would be better than going on living here.’
‘Yes, then. But now you will have a comfortable income, won’t you?’
‘Oh! yes, it’s quite different now.’
She made the admission with the utmost simplicity.
He smiled but pursued the subject no further. Instead he said: ‘And your brother? Did he have a quarrel too?’
‘Matthew? Oh, no.’
‘Then no one can say he had a motive for wishing his aunt out of the way.’
He was quick to seize on the momentary dismay that showed in her face.
‘I forgot,’ he said casually. ‘He owed a good deal of money, didn’t he?’
‘Yes; poor old Matthew.’
‘Still, that will be all right now.’
‘Yes –’ She sighed. ‘It is a relief.’
And still she saw nothing! He changed the subject hastily. ‘Your cousins and your brother are at home?’
‘Yes; I told them you were coming. They are all so anxious to help. Oh, Sir Edward – I feel, somehow, that you are going to find out that everything is all right – that none of us had anything to do with it – that, after all, it was an outsider.’
‘I can’t do miracles. I may be able to find out the truth, but I can’t make the truth be what you want it to be.’
‘Can’t you? I feel that you could do anything – anything.’
