After the Funeral - Agatha Christie [18]
Mr. Entwhistle was silent for a moment. The invitation was not unwelcome.
“There is something in what you say,” he admitted. “And I shall need Timothy’s signature as executor to certain documents. Yes, I think it might be quite a good thing.”
“That is splendid. I am so relieved. Tomorrow? And you’ll stay the night? The best train is the 11:20 from St. Pancras.”
“It will have to be an afternoon train, I’m afraid. I have,” said Mr. Entwhistle, “other business in the morning….”
II
George Crossfield greeted Mr. Entwhistle heartily but with, perhaps, just a shade of surprise.
Mr. Entwhistle said, in an explanatory way, although it really explained nothing:
“I’ve just come up from Lytchett St. Mary.”
“Then it really was Aunt Cora? I read about it in the papers and I just couldn’t believe it. I thought it must be someone of the same name.”
“Lansquenet is not a common name.”
“No, of course it isn’t. I suppose there is a natural aversion to believing that anyone of one’s own family can be murdered. Sounds to me rather like that case last month on Dartmoor.”
“Does it?”
“Yes. Same circumstances. Cottage in a lonely position. Two elderly women living together. Amount of cash taken really quite pitifully inadequate one would think.”
“The value of money is always relative,” said Mr. Entwhistle. “It is the need that counts.”
“Yes—yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“If you need ten pounds desperately—then fifteen is more than adequate. And inversely so. If your need is for a hundred pounds, forty-five would be worse than useless. And if it’s thousands you need, then hundreds are not enough.”
George said with a sudden flicker of the eyes: “I’d say any money came in useful these days. Everyone’s hard up.”
“But not desperate,” Mr. Entwhistle pointed out. “It’s the desperation that counts.”
“Are you thinking of something in particular?”
“Oh no, not at all.” He paused then went on: “It will be a little time before the estate is settled; would it be convenient for you to have an advance?”
“As a matter of fact, I was going to raise the subject. However, I saw the Bank this morning and referred them to you and they were quite obliging about an overdraft.”
Again there came that flicker in George’s eyes, and Mr. Entwhistle, from the depths of his experience, recognized it. George, he felt certain, had been, if not desperate, then in very sore straits for money. He knew at that moment, what he had felt subconsciously all along, that in money matters he would not trust George. He wondered if old Richard Abernethie, who also had had great experience in judging men, had felt that. Mr. Entwhistle was also sure that after Mortimer’s death, Abernethie had formed the intention of making George his heir. George was not an Abernethie, but he was the only male of the younger generation. He was the natural successor to Mortimer. Richard Abernethie had sent for George, had had him staying in the house for some days. It seemed probable that at the end of the visit the older man had not found George satisfactory. Had he felt instinctively, as Mr. Entwhistle felt, that George was not straight? George’s father, so the family had thought, had been a poor choice on Laura’s part. A stockbroker who had had other rather mysterious activities. George took after his father rather than after the Abernethies.
Perhaps misinterpreting the old lawyer’s silence, George said with an uneasy laugh:
“Truth is, I’ve not been very lucky with my investments lately. I took a bit of a risk and it didn’t come off. More or less cleaned me out. But I’ll be able to recoup myself now. All one needs is a bit of capital. Ardens Consolidated are pretty good, don’t you think?”
Mr. Entwhistle neither agreed nor dissented. He was wondering if by any chance George had been speculating with money that belonged to clients and not with his own? If George