a strain, and that he didn’t think he had better take any more. And then he brought out the astounding thing. ‘Richard,’ he said, ‘there’s something I must tell you – in strict confidence.’
“We were standing beside his car. I felt instantly uneasy – partly because of an odd feeling that we were being overheard, and partly from sheer foreboding. I muttered something about respecting any confidence he cared to make.
“‘I’ve made a mistake,’ he said. ‘To leave money out of the family – a family like our family – is utterly wrong. This night has been a revelation to me. You stand by the old ways, Richard – and I know enough about the economic difficulties of this country to know that it must be against tremendous odds.’ I could see his glance going back to the dark bulk of the house. ‘It’s magnificent, Richard. I can’t tell you. I can’t begin to speak. But you shall be my sole heir. God bless you. And goodbye.’ And with that Hiram climbed into his car and drove away. And now you have the whole story. Of course he will have to be told. I see that now. I’ve been a frightful ass, and I’m back pretty well where I started.”
There was a long silence. Richard Poole produced a silk handkerchief and mopped his forehead. Mr Buttery, as if he were some aged anthropoid of an imitative bent, promptly did the same. Appleby took a turn round the hall, and on coming back addressed its owner quietly. “And where do you suppose Hiram Poole to be now?”
“On board the Queen Mary , steaming for New York. He was to drive straight to London, change, and catch the boat train.”
“He was to change? Did he come here in fancy dress?”
“Yes. He had realised that it was the unnoticeable thing to do.”
“A black Caroline costume with a gold-embroidered cloak?”
“Yes.” Richard Poole’s eyes widened. “But I don’t see–”
“Your cousin is grey-haired, with a small scar on his chin?”
“Yes.”
“Then I am very sorry to say that he is not on board the Queen Mary . His dead body is lying at the bottom of the ruined staircase in this house.”
Miss Jones had fainted, been resuscitated, and at last accommodated on Mr Buttery’s box. Judith had driven off rapidly in her car. Richard Poole had identified his cousin’s body and was now back in the hall, looking pale and troubled. “It’s unbelievable,” he said.
“That is what you felt your tale was going to be.” Appleby spoke very seriously. “Hiram Poole has died, so to speak, at the end of a decidedly tall story put up by yourself. There are various possibilities. Some of them can’t be explored until we have a medical report. Others suggest themselves at once.”
“Such as?” The young man looked at him dully.
“You no doubt see for yourself that it would be easy to set your proceedings in a very damaging light. You are a poor man. You have admitted what it would be impossible long to conceal: that you brought this rich American cousin down to Water Poole and submitted him to a gross imposture. Your own story is that he was prompted by this fraud to declare his intention of making you his heir. It may very well be so. But one can conceive of other turns that the affair may have taken. It might be suggested that you were aware that you had already been constituted, at least in some degree, your cousin’s heir. It might be suggested that last night he penetrated to the nature of the charade in which you had involved him.”
“Stop!” Richard Poole’s face was bloodless. “You have no right to confront me with these insinuations. It is utterly irregular.”
“My dear sir, I have no official standing in this matter at all. I am speaking to you as a private citizen; and at the same time I am giving you, for your own benefit, an experienced view of certain lines of speculation which the officers who will investigate this business may be prompted to follow.”
“I see. Very well. Go on.”
“It is
Aj Harmon, Christopher Harmon