Smallbone Deceased by Michael Gilbert Read Free Book Online Page B

her.
    â€œWhat about his letters?”
    Mrs. Tasker pointed to a little heap on the sideboard.
    â€œThere’s a few come for him,” she said. “Mostly bills.”
    Miss Cornel looked through them quickly. Three of the cleaner envelopes were, she guessed, Messrs. Rumbold & Carter’s communications of the 23rd February, the 16th ultimo and the 8th instant. The rest were, in fact, circulars and bills.
    â€œWell,” she said rather hopelessly. “You might ask him to telephone us as soon as he turns up. It’s rather important.”
    â€œI’ll tell him,” said Mrs. Tasker.

Chapter Three
    â€¦ Wednesday Morning …
A CAPITAL ASSET COMES TO LIGHT
    The body (or corpus) of the trust estate will normally be invested in approved and easily realizable securities.
    Apart from the Roman Church, who are acknowledged experts in human behaviour, there is nobody quicker than a solicitor at detecting the first faint stirrings of a scandal: that distinctive, that elusive odour of Something which is not Quite as it Should Be.
    Mr. Birley was only voicing the uneasiness of all his colleagues when he said to Mr. Craine next morning:
    â€œThe fellow can’t have disappeared. He’ll have to be found.”
    â€œIt’s awkward,” said Mr. Craine. “By the way, who are the other trustees?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact,” said Bob apologetically, “there isn’t another. Father was one trustee, you know, Mr. Smallbone was the other.”
    â€œWasn’t another trustee appointed when Abel died?”
    â€˜â€™Well, no. That is, not yet.”
    â€œWho has the power to appoint?”
    â€œI think the surviving trustee—”
    â€œSo it amounts to this-that unless we can induce Smallbone to come back to England we shall probably have the expense of going to court—”
    â€œI don’t know that Mr. Smallbone’s gone abroad,” said Bob. “His landlady only said that he’d gone away. She said he went to Italy last year—”
    â€œIt’s perfectly absurd. He must have left an address. People don’t walk out into the blue. Not if they’re trustees.”
    â€œWell, that’s what he seems to have done,” said Bob. He always found Mr. Birley alarming; and the fact that they were now, in theory, equal members of the partnership had not gone very far towards alleviating that feeling. “Perhaps if we wait for a few weeks—”
    â€œWith half a million pounds’ worth of securities,” said Mr. Birley. “This isn’t a post office savings account. There must be questions of reinvestment cropping up every day. I wonder you’ve managed to get by for as long as you have—”
    Bob flushed at the obvious implication of this remark. Mr. Craine came to his rescue.
    â€œWouldn’t it be a good thing,” he said, “to take this opportunity of going through the securities. We’ll have to appoint a new trustee and that will mean an assignment. We’ll get a broker’s opinion on any necessary reinvestments at the same time.”
    â€œI’ll do that,” said Bob gratefully.
    â€œWhere are the securities?” asked Mr. Birley.
    â€œThey’re in the muniments room. I’ll get Sergeant Cockerill to bring them up.”
    â€œYou might get the trust accounts out of the box, too, and run through them,” suggested Mr. Craine.
    â€œAll right,” said Bob. “But—I’m sure there’s nothing wrong.”
    â€œWhy should there be anything wrong?” said Mr. Birley, looking up sharply.
    â€œAbout Mr. Smallbone, I mean. He often used to disappear like this. Miss Cornel was telling me about him. He’s a bit of a crank.”
    â€œFact is, the fellow ought never to have been appointed a trustee.” said Mr. Birley. “But Stokes was mad for years before he died. None of his relations had the guts to say so. Served