Half-Mast Murder by Kennedy Milward

Author:Kennedy, Milward [Kennedy, Milward]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: PFD Books
Published: 2014-02-08T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

LIGHTS ON A LEGAL LUMINARY

The Superintendent was not destined quietly to pursue his theorising. Hardly had he switched his thoughts to that preliminary problem of how the summer-house got its door locked, and the key on that inaccessible table behind the door, when the telephone rang.

It was the Chief Constable, requesting him, if he could spare the time, to drive over at once : Sir Ernest Mapperley was with him, the Professor’s solicitor.

The Superintendent felt almost flustered at the prospect of .meeting the eminent solicitor—not so much because of his eminence, but because this seemed to bring him into actual contact with the world-wide aspect of the late Professor’s career, the side of the case which might be too much for him, with his local limitations.

He had fully recovered his habitual equipoise when the interview began ; it was brief and not particularly informative.

Evidently Sir Ernest had already said the “proper things” to the Chief Constable. The latter briefly introduced the Superintendent and said to him :

“Sir Ernest came down inresponse to my request.”

Guest murmured that it was good of him ; the Major ignored this, and went on :

“The main thing is that he can tell us about Professor Paley’s will.I got you over here because there may be points about which you’d like to consult him.”

Guest had a suspicion that “consult” had hastily been substituted for “examine.” He coughed, but said nothing.

“The main outline of the will, of which I am prepared—quite unofficially and—ah—irregularly—to leave you a copy, is simple.”

Sir Ernest’s manner was as impressive and urbane as his attire and appearance. Morning coat and immaculate trousers, the thin gold and platinum chain across the smooth and expansive waistcoat, were in sad contrast with the “country gentleman” look of Major Dillon’s tweeds.

The solicitor paused weightily, picked up the typewritten sheets which he had laid neatly on the small table beside his arm-chair, slightly shifted his gold pince-nez on his large nose, glanced up and down the sheets in the manner of an elderly schoolmaster reminding himself of the contents of a puerile essay of a schoolboy to whom he was about to expound its blemishes, laid the papers down again, removed his pince-nez and tapped them with his right hand against the thumb of his left, coughed, and said, “Yes.”

The Superintendent fidgeted with his feet. After all, he said to himself, time matters to me : I’ve got to find a murderer.

“Quite simple,” Sir Ernest continued, as if he pitied the two · country bumpkins for their ignorance. “Mrs. Arkwright—that is, the Professor’s sister——”

“Quite so,” said the Superintendent, and Sir Ernest slightly moved one eyebrow, in recognition of the note of impatience in the policeman’s voice.

“Ah, of course. You have no doubt seen her. Very good. I was about to say that Mrs. Arkwright figures but little in the will. She is left certain personal objects of—ah—greater sentimental than intrinsic value, and the sum of one thousand pounds. Servants who have been in the Professor’s service for

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