A POCKET FULL OF RYE BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

stood by us during these last tragic weeks, don’t you think we ought to raise their

salaries all round?”

“Certainly not,” snapped Percival Fortescue.

“Quite uncalled for and unnecessary.”

Inspector Neele noticed the gleam of

devilry in Lance’s eyes. Percival, however, was far too much upset to notice it.

“You always had the most extraordinarily

extravagant ideas,” he stuttered. “In the state

in which this firm has been left, economy is

our only hope.”

Inspector Neele coughed apologetically.

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk

to you about, Mr. Fortescue,” he said to

Percival.

“Yes, Inspector?” Percival switched his

attention to Neele.

“I want to put certain suggestions before

you, Mr. Fortescue. I understand that for the

278

past six months or longer, possibly a year, your father’s general behaviour and conduct

has been a source of increasing anxiety to

you.”

“He wasn’t well,” said Percival, with

finality. “He certainly wasn’t at all well.”

“You tried to induce him to see a doctor

but you failed. He refused catagorically?”

“That is so.”

“May I ask you if you suspected that your

father was suffering from what is familiarly

referred to as G.P.I. General Paralysis of the

Insane, a condition with signs of megalomania

and irritability which terminates

sooner or later in hopeless insanity?”

Percival looked surprised. “It is remarkably

astute of you. Inspector. That is exactly what

I did fear. That is why I was so anxious for

my father to submit to medical treatment.”

Neele went on:

“In the meantime, until you could persuade

your father to do that, he was capable

of causing a great deal of havoc to the

business?”

“He certainly was,” Percival agreed.

“A very unfortunate state of affairs,” said

the Inspector.

279

“Quite terrible. No one knows the anxiety I

have been through.”

Neele said gently:

“From the business point of view, your

father’s death was an extremely fortunate

circumstance.”

Percival said sharply:

“You can hardly think I would regard my

father’s death in that light.”

“It is not a question of how you regard it,

Mr. Fortescue. I’m speaking merely of a

question of fact. Your father died before his

finances were completely on the rocks.”

Percival said impatiently:

“Yes, yes. As a matter of actual fact, you

are right.”

“It was a fortunate occurrence for your

whole family, since they are dependent on

this business.”

“Yes. But really Inspector, I don’t see what

you’re driving at . . .” Percival broke off.

“Oh, I’m not driving at anything, Mr.

Fortescue,” said Neele. “I just like getting

my facts straight. Now there’s another thing.

I understood you to say that you’d had no

communication of any kind with your brother

here since he left England many years ago.

»?

“Quite so,” said Percival.

280

“Yes, but it isn’t quite so, is it, Mr.

Fortescue? I mean that last spring when you

were so worried about your father’s health,

you actually wrote to your brother in Africa,

told him of your anxiety about your father’s

behaviour. You wanted, I think, your brother

to combine with you in getting your father

medically examined and put under restraint,

if necessary.”

“I—I—really, I don’t see . . .” Percival was

badly shaken.

“That is so, isn’t it, Mr. Fortescue?”

“Well, actually, I thought it only right.

After all, Lancelot was a junior partner.”

Inspector Neele transferred his gaze to

Lance. Lance was grinning.

“You received that letter?” Inspector Neele

asked.

Lance Fortescue nodded.

“What did you reply to it?”

Lance’s grin widened.

“I told Percy to go and boil his head and to

let the old man alone. I said the old man

probably knew what he was doing quite

well.”

Inspector Neele’s gaze went back again to

Percival.

281

“Were those the terms of your brother’s

answer?”

“I—I—well, I suppose roughly, yes. Far

more offensively couched, however.”

“I thought the Inspector had better have a

bowdlerised version,” said Lance. He went

on, “Frankly, Inspector Neele, that is one of

the reasons why, when I got a letter from my

father, I came home to see for myself what I

thought. In the short interview I had with my

father, frankly I couldn’t see anything much

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