At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [31]
“She’s a very remarkable woman,” said Egerton shortly. “Everybody would agree to that.”
“Didn’t she ever want to see me?”
“She may have done…I think it’s very possible that she did. But having made in—certain ways—rather a mess of her own life, she may have thought that it was better for you that you should be brought up quite apart from her.”
“Do you actually know that she thinks that?”
“No. I don’t really know anything about it.”
Elvira got up.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s very kind of you to tell me all this.”
“I think perhaps you ought to have been told more about things before,” said Egerton.
“It’s humiliating not to know things,” said Elvira. “Uncle Derek, of course, thinks I’m just a child.”
“Well, he’s not a very young man himself. He and I, you know, are well advanced in years. You must make allowances for us when we look at things from the point of view of our advanced age.”
Elvira stood looking at him for a moment or two.
“But you don’t think I’m really a child, do you?” she said shrewdly, and added, “I expect you know rather more about girls than Uncle Derek does. He just lived with his sister.” Then she stretched out her hand and said, very prettily, “Thank you so much. I hope I haven’t interrupted some important work you had to do,” and went out.
Egerton stood looking at the door that had closed behind her. He pursed up his lips, whistled a moment, shook his head and sat down again, picked up a pen and tapped thoughtfully on his desk. He drew some papers towards him, then thrust them back and picked up his telephone.
“Miss Cordell, get me Colonel Luscombe, will you? Try his club first. And then the Shropshire address.”
He put back the receiver. Again he drew his papers towards him and started reading them but his mind was not on what he was doing. Presently his buzzer went.
“Colonel Luscombe is on the wire now, Mr. Egerton.”
“Right. Put him through. Hallo, Derek. Richard Egerton here. How are you? I’ve just been having a visit from someone you know. A visit from your ward.”
“From Elvira?” Derek Luscombe sounded very surprised.
“Yes.”
“But why—what on earth—what did she come to you for? Not in any trouble?”
“No, I wouldn’t say so. On the contrary, she seemed rather—well, pleased with herself. She wanted to know all about her financial position.”
“You didn’t tell her, I hope?” said Colonel Luscombe, in alarm.
“Why not? What’s the point of secrecy?”
“Well, I can’t help feeling it’s a little unwise for a girl to know that she is going to come into such a large amount of money.”
“Somebody else will tell her that, if we don’t. She’s got to be prepared, you know. Money is a responsibility.”
“Yes, but she’s so much of a child still.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“What do you mean? Of course she’s a child.”
“I wouldn’t describe her as such. Who’s the boyfriend?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I said who’s the boyfriend? There is a boyfriend in the offing, isn’t there?”
“No, indeed. Nothing of the sort. What on earth makes you think that?”
“Nothing that she actually said. But I’ve got some experience, you know. I think you’ll find there is a boyfriend.”
“Well, I can assure you you’re quite wrong. I mean, she’s been most carefully brought up, she’s been at very strict schools, she’s been in a very select finishing establishment in Italy. I should know if there was anything of that kind going on. I dare say she’s met one or two pleasant young fellows and all that, but I’m sure there’s been nothing of the kind you suggest.”
“Well, my diagnosis is a boyfriend—and probably an undesirable one.”
“But why, Richard, why? What do you know about young girls?”
“Quite a lot,” said Egerton dryly. “I’ve had three clients in the last year, two of whom were made wards of court and the third one managed to bully her parents into agreeing to an almost certainly disastrous marriage. Girls don’t get looked after the way they used to be. Conditions are such that it’s very difficult to look after them at all—”
“But I assure you Elvira has been most carefully looked after.”
“The