“If Mr. Trent was not willing to marry Miss Chevenix-Gore, then the money went to her unconditionally. But if he was willing and she refused, then the money went to him instead.”
“Odd business,” said Major Riddle.
Poirot leaned forward. He tapped the lawyer on the knee.
“But what is behind it? What was in the mind of Sir Gervase when he made that stipulation? There must have been something very definite . . . There must, I think, have been the image of another man . . . a man of whom he disapproved. I think, Mr. Forbes, that you must know who that man was?”
“Really, M. Poirot, I have no information.”
“But you could make a guess.”
“I never guess,” said Mr. Forbes, and his tone was scandalized.
Removing his pince-nez, he wiped them with a silk handkerchief and inquired:
“Is there anything else that you desire to know?”
“At the moment, no,” said Poirot. “Not, that is, as far as I am concerned.”
Mr. Forbes looked as though, in his opinion, that was not very far, and bent his attention on the chief constable.
“Thank you, Mr. Forbes. I think that’s all. I should like, if I may, to speak to Miss Chevenix-Gore.”
“Certainly. I think she is upstairs with Lady Chevenix-Gore.”
“Oh, well, perhaps I’ll have a word with—what’s his name?—Burrows, first, and the family history woman.”
“They’re both in the library. I will tell them.”
Seven
“Hard work, that,” said Major Riddle, as the lawyer left the room. “Extracting information from these old-fashioned legal wallahs takes a bit of doing. The whole business seems to me to centre about the girl.”
“It would seem so—yes.”
“Ah, here comes Burrows.”
Godfrey Burrows came in with a pleasant eagerness to be of use. His smile was discreetly tempered with gloom and showed only a fraction too much teeth. It seemed more mechanical than spontaneous.
“Now, Mr. Burrows, we want to ask you a few questions.”
“Certainly, Major Riddle. Anything you like.”
“Well, first and foremost, to put it quite simply, have you any ideas of your own about Sir Gervase’s suicide?”
“Absolutely none. It was the greatest shock to me.”
“You heard the shot?”
“No; I must have been in the library at the time, as far as I can make out. I came down rather early and went to the library to look up a reference I wanted. The library’s right the other side of the house from the study, so I shouldn’t hear anything.”
“Was anyone with you in the library?” asked Poirot.
“No one at all.”
“You’ve no idea where the other members of the household were at that time?”
“Mostly upstairs dressing, I should imagine.”