“You managed all Sir Gervase’s legal affairs?”
“Yes, my firm, Forbes, Ogilvie and Spence, have acted for the Chevenix-Gore family for well over a hundred years.”
“Were there any—scandals in the Chevenix-Gore family?”
Mr. Forbes’s eyebrows rose.
“Really, I fail to understand you?”
“M. Poirot, will you show Mr. Forbes the letter you showed me?”
In silence Poirot rose and handed the letter to Mr. Forbes with a little bow.
Mr. Forbes read it and his eyebrows rose still more.
“A most remarkable letter,” he said. “I appreciate your question now. No, so far as my knowledge went, there was nothing to justify the writing of such a letter.”
“Sir Gervase said nothing of this matter to you?”
“Nothing at all. I must say I find it very curious that he should not have done so.”
“He was accustomed to confide in you?”
“I think he relied on my judgment.”
“And you have no idea as to what this letter refers?”
“I should not like to make any rash speculations.”
Major Riddle appreciated the subtlety of this reply.
“Now, Mr. Forbes, perhaps you can tell us how Sir Gervase has left his property.”
“Certainly. I see no objection to such a course. To his wife, Sir Gervase left an annual income of six thousand pounds chargeable on the estate, and the choice of the Dower House or the town house in Lowndes Square, whichever she should prefer. There were, of course, several legacies and bequests, but nothing of an outstanding nature. The residue of his property was left to his adopted daughter, Ruth, on condition that, if she married, her husband should take the name of Chevenix-Gore.”
“Was nothing left to his nephew, Mr. Hugo Trent?”
“Yes. A legacy of five thousand pounds.”
“And I take it that Sir Gervase was a rich man?”
“He was extremely wealthy. He had a vast private fortune apart from the estate. Of course, he was not quite so well-off as in the past. Practically all invested incomes have felt the strain. Also, Sir Gervase had dropped a good deal of money over a certain company—the Paragon Synthetic Rubber Substitute in which Colonel Bury persuaded him to invest a good deal of money.”
“Not very wise advice?”
Mr. Forbes sighed.
“Retired soldiers are the worst sufferers when they engage in financial operations. I have found that their credulity far exceeds that of widows—and that is saying a good deal.”
“But these unfortunate investments did not seriously affect Sir Gervase’s income?”
“Oh, no, not seriously. He was still an extremely rich man.”
“When was this will made?”
“Two years ago.”
Poirot murmured: