through life, to see how Percy always got his
own way without seeming to do so, if you
know what I mean.”
Yes, Inspector Neele thought, it was indeed
astonishing. He sorted through the papers in
front of him, fished out a letter and shoved it
across the desk towards Lance.
“This is a letter you wrote last August,
isn’t it, Mr. Fortescue?”
Lance took it, glanced at it and returned it.
“Yes,” he said, “I wrote it after I got back
to Kenya last summer. Dad kept it, did he?
Where was it—here in the office?”
274
“No, Mr. Fortescue, it was among your
father’s papers in Yewtree Lodge.”
The Inspector considered it speculatively
as it lay on the desk in front of him. It was not
a long letter.
“Dear Dad,
I’ve talked things over with Pat and I agree
to your proposition. It will take me a little
time to get things fixed up here, say about the
end of October or beginning of November.
I’ll let you know nearer the time. I hope we’ll
pull together better than we used to do. Anyway, I’ll do my best. I can’t say more. Look
after yourself.
Yours,
Lance.”
“Where did you address this letter, Mr.
Fortescue. To the office or Yewtree Lodge?”
Lance frowned in an effort of recollection.
“It’s difficult. I can’t remember. You see
it’s almost three months now. The office, I
think. Yes, I’m almost sure. Here to the
office.” He paused a moment before asking
with frank curiosity, “Why?”
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