mean.”
Inspector Neele was shocked but managed
47
not to show it. A girl like Mary Dove ought
not to say such things, he felt.
The young lady was continuing composedly:
“Adele married him for his money, of
course, and his son, Percival, and his
daughter, Elaine, were simply livid about it.
They’re as nasty as they can be to her, but
very wisely she doesn’t care or even notice.
She knows she’s got the old man where she
wants him. Oh dear, the wrong tense again. I
haven’t really grasped yet that he’s dead. …”
“Let’s hear about the son.”
“Dear Percival? Val as his wife calls him.
Percival is a mealy-mouthed hypocrite. He’s
prim and sly and cunning. He’s terrified of
his father and has always let himself be
bullied, but he’s quite clever at getting his
own way. Unlike his father he’s mean about
money. Economy is one of his passions.
That’s why he’s been so long about finding a
house of his own. Having a suite of rooms
here saved his pocket.”
“And his wife?”
“Jennifer’s meek and seems very stupid.
But I’m not so sure. She was a hospital
nurse before her marriage–nursed Percival
through pneumonia to a romantic conclusion.
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The old man was disappointed by the marriage.
He was a snob and wanted Percival to
make what he called a ‘good marriage.’ He
despised poor Mrs. Val and snubbed her. She
dislikes–disliked him a good deal, I think.
Her principal interests are shopping and the
cinema, her principal grievance is that her
husband keeps her short of money.”
“What about the daughter?”
“Elaine? I’m rather sorry for Elaine. She’s
not a bad sort. One of those great schoolgirls
who never grow up. She plays games quite
well, and runs Guides and Brownies and all
that sort of thing. There was some sort of
affair not long ago with a disgruntled young
schoolmaster, but Father discovered the
young man had communistic ideas and came
down on the romance like a ton of bricks.”
“She hasn’t got the spirit to stand up to
him?”
“She had. It was the young man who ratted.
A question of money yet again, I fancy.
Elaine is not particularly attractive, poor
dear.”
“And the other son?”
“I’ve never seen him. He’s attractive, by all
accounts, and a thoroughly bad lot. Some
49
little matter of a forged cheque in the past.
He lives in East Africa.”
“And was estranged from his father.”
“Yes, Mr. Fortescue couldn’t cut him off
with a shilling because he’d already made
him a junior partner in the firm, but he held
no communication with him for years, and in
fact if Lance was ever mentioned, he used to
say ‘Don’t talk to me of that rascal. He’s no
son of mine.’ All the same——”
“Yes, Miss Dove?”
Mary said slowly: “All the same, I
shouldn’t be surprised if old Fortescue hadn’t
been planning to get him back here.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because, about a month ago, old Fortescue
had a terrific row with Percival—he
found out something that Percival had been
doing behind his back—1 don’t know what it
was—and he was absolutely furious. Percival
suddenly stopped being the white-headed
boy. He’s been quite different lately, too.”
“Mr. Fortescue was quite different?”
“No. I mean Percival. He’s gone about
looking worried to death.”
“Now what about servants? You’ve already
described the Crumps. Who else is there?”
“Gladys Martin is the parlourmaid or
50
waitress, as they like to call themselves
nowadays. She does the downstairs rooms,
lays the table, clears away and helps Crump
wait at table. Quite a decent sort of girl but
very nearly half-witted. The adenoidal type.”
Neele nodded.
“The housemaid is Ellen Curtis. Elderly,
very crabbed, and very cross, but has been in
good service and is a first-class housemaid.
The rest is outside help—odd women who
come in.”
“And those are the only people living
here?”
“There’s old Miss Ramsbottom.”
“Who is she?”
“Mr. Fortescue’s sister-in-law—his first
wife’s sister. His wife was a good deal older
than he was and her sister again was a good
deal older than her—which makes her well
over seventy. She has a room of her own on