“Old Howard Falsoner left a will whereby the income from his estate was to go to Jerome during Jerome’s life. Jerome was to provide for his brother Ben as he saw fit. That is, he had an absolutely free hand. He could divide the income equally with his brother, or he could give him a pittance, or he could give him nothing, as Ben’s conduct deserved. On Jerome’s death the estate was to be divided equally among the old man’s grandchildren.
“In theory, that was a fairly sensible arrangement, but not in practice — not in Jerome Falsoner’s hands. You
didn’t know him? Well, he was the last man you’d ever trust with a thing of that sort. He exercised his power to the utmost. Ben Falsoner never got a cent from him. Three years ago Ben died, and so the girl, his only daughter, stepped into his position in relation to her grandfather’s money. Her mother was already dead. Jerome Falsoner never paid her a cent.
“That was her situation when she came to the trust company two years ago. It wasn’t a happy one. She had at least a touch of the Falsoner recklessness and extravagance. There she was: heiress to some two million dollars — for Jerome had never married and she was the only grandchild — but without any present income at all, except her salary, which was by no means a large one.
“She got in debt. I suppose she tried to economize at times, but there was always that two million dollars ahead to make scrimping doubly distasteful. Finally, the trust company officials heard of her indebtedness. A collector or two came to the office, in fact. Since she was employed in my department, I had the disagreeable duty of warning her. She promised to pay her debts and contract no more, and I suppose she did try, but she wasn’t very successful. Our officials are old-fashioned, ultra-conservative. I did everything I could to save her, but it was no good. They simply would not have an employee who was heels over
head in debt.”
Millar paused a moment, looked miserably at the floor,
and went on:
“I had the disagreeable task of telling her her services were no longer needed. I tried to — It was awfully un-
pleasant. That was the day before she married Landow. It —” he paused and, as if he could think of nothing else to say, repeated, “Yes, it was the day before she married I Landow,” and fell to staring miserably at the floor again. 1
Alec Rush, who had sat as still through the recital of f this history as a carven monster on an old church, now leaned over his desk and put a husky question:
“And who is this Hubert Landow? What is he?”
Ralph Millar shook his downcast head.
“I don’t know him. I’ve seen him. I know nothing of him.”
“Mrs. Landow ever speak of him? I mean when she was in the trust company?”
“It’s likely, but I don’t remember.”
“So you didn’t know what to make of it when you heard she’d married him?”
The younger man looked up with frightened brown eyes.
“What are you getting at, Rush? You don’t think — Yes, ,as you say, I was surprised. What are you getting at?”
“The marriage license,” the detective said, ignoring his
client’s repeated question, “was issued to Landow four
days before the wedding-day, four days before Jerome Falsoner’s body was found.”
Millar chewed a finger nail and shook his head hopelessly.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” he mumbled :around the finger. “The whole thing is bewildering.”
“Isn’t it a fact, Mr. Millar,” the detective’s voice filled the office with hoarse insistence, “that you were on more
friendly terms with Sara Falsoner than with anyone else in the trust company?”
The younger man raised his head and looked Alec Rush in the eye —held his gaze with brown eyes that were doggedly level.
“The fact is,” he said quietly, “that I asked Sara Falsoner to marry me the day she left.” “Yeah. And she —?”
“And she —I suppose it was my fault. I was clumsy, crude, whatever you like. God knows what she thought — that I was asking her to marry me out of pity, that I was trying to force her into marriage by discharging her when I knew she was over her head in debt! She might have thought anything. Anyhow, it was — it was disagreeable.”