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Nemesis - Agatha Christie [6]

By Root 558 0
She wondered what Messrs Broadribb and Schuster were like. The letter had been signed byJ. R. Broadribb who was, apparently, the senior partner. It was possible, Miss Marple thought, that Mr Rafiel might have left her some small memoir or souvenir in his will. Perhaps some book on rare flowers that had been in his library and which he thought would please an old lady who was keen on gardening. Or perhaps a cameo brooch which had belonged to some great-aunt of his. She amused herself by these fancies. They were only fancies, she thought, because in either case it would merely be a case of the Executors — if these lawyers were the Executors — forwarding her by post any such object. They would not have wanted an interview.

‘Oh well,’ said Miss Marple, ‘I shall know next Tuesday.’

II

‘Wonder what she’ll be like,’ said Mr Broadribb to Mr Schuster, glancing at the clock as he did so.

‘She’s due in a quarter of an hour,’ said Mr Schuster. ‘Wonder if she’ll be punctual?’

‘Oh, I should think so. She’s elderly, I gather, and much more punctilious than the young scatter-brains of today.’

‘Fat or thin, I wonder?’ said Mr Schuster.

Mr Broadribb shook his head.

‘Didn’t Rafiel ever describe her to you?’ asked Mr Schuster.

‘He was extraordinarily cagey in everything he said about her.’

‘The whole thing seems very odd to me,’ said Mr Schuster. ‘If we only knew a bit more about what it all meant…’

‘It might be,’ said Mr Broadribb thoughtfully, ‘something to do with Michael.’

‘What? After all these years? Couldn’t be. What put that into your head? Did he mention — ’

‘No, he didn’t mention anything. Gave me no clue at all as to what was in his mind. Just gave me instructions.’

‘Think he was getting a bit eccentric and all that towards the end?’

‘Not in the least. Mentally he was as brilliant as ever. His physical ill-health never affected his brain, anyway. In the last two months of his life he made an extra two hundred thousand pounds. Just like that.’

‘He had a flair,’ said Mr Schuster with due reverence. ‘Certainly, he always had a flair.’

‘A great financial brain,’ said Mr Broadribb, also in a tone of reverence suitable to the sentiment. ‘Not many like him, more’s the pity.’

A buzzer went on the table. Mr Schuster picked up the receiver. A female voice said,

‘Miss Jane Marple is here to see Mr Broadribb by appointment.’

Mr Schuster looked at his partner, raising an eyebrow for an affirmative or a negative. Mr Broadribb nodded.

‘Show her up,’ said Mr Schuster. And he added, ‘Now we’ll see.’

Miss Marple entered a room where a middle-aged gentleman with a thin, spare body and a long rather melancholy face rose to greet her. This apparently was Mr Broadribb, whose appearance somewhat contradicted his name. With him was a rather younger middle-aged gentleman of definitely more ample proportions. He had black hair, small keen eyes and a tendency to a double chin.

‘My partner, Mr Schuster,’ Mr Broadribb presented.

‘I hope you didn’t feel the stairs too much,’ said Mr Schuster. ‘Seventy if she is a day — nearer eighty perhaps,’ he was thinking in his own mind.

‘I always get a little breathless going upstairs.’

‘An old-fashioned building this,’ said Mr Broadribb apologetically. ‘No lift. Ah well, we are a very long established firm and we don’t go in for as many of the modern gadgets as perhaps our clients expect of us.’

‘This room has very pleasant proportions,’ said Miss Marple, politely.

She accepted the chair that Mr Broadribb drew forward for her. Mr Schuster, in an unobtrusive sort of way, left the room.

‘I hope that chair is comfortable,’ said Mr Broadribb. ‘I’ll pull that curtain slightly, shall I? You may feel the sun a little too much in your eyes.’

‘Thank you,’ said Miss Marple, gratefully.

She sat there, upright as was her habit. She wore a light tweed suit, a string of pearls and a small velvet toque. To himself Mr Broadribb was saying, ‘The Provincial Lady. A good type. Fluffy old girl. May be scatty — may not. Quite a shrewd eye. I wonder where Rafiel came across her. Somebody’s aunt, perhaps,

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