‘Oh, yes,’ said Mrs Weldon. ‘At least, it will do so. I must confess that I have been a little remiss up to the present. I haven’t actually made a will. I have always enjoyed such wonderful health — but it will have to be done, of course. You know how one puts things off.’
The old story, thought Harriet. If all the wise wills projected in people’s minds were actually executed, there would be fewer fortunes inherited only to be thrown away. She reflected that if Mrs Weldon died the next day, Henry would step into sole control of something over £130,000
‘You know,’ she said, ‘I think I should make that will if I were you. Even the youngest and healthiest people may get run over or something.’
‘Yes, yes — you’re so very right. But now that poor Paul is dead, I don’t feel that I have the energy for business. It would matter more, of course, if Henry were married and had a family, but he says he doesn’t mean to marry, and if so, he may as well have the money first as last. There’s nobody else now. But I’m afraid I’m boring you, my dear, with all this chatter. You were asking about poor dear Paul, and I’ve been led away into telling you all these silly private affairs. What I was trying to say was that Paul simply, couldn’t have been worrying about speculations. He knew he was going to have plenty of money: Besides,’ added Mrs Weldon, with perfect justice, ‘you can’t speculate much without capital, can you? Money breeds money, as a stockbroker I once knew used to say, and Paul never had any money to start with I don’t think he would have known anything about speculating either; he was too romantic and unworldly, poor dear boy.’
‘Maybe,’ said Harriet to herself, ‘maybe. But he managed to get on the right side of the person who had it’ She was a little surprised. ‘Wealthy’ is a comparative term — she had imagined Mrs Weldon to possess, about three thousand a year. But if her money was decently invested — and she spoke as if it was — she must have at least twice that amount. A pauper like Alexis might be excused for wedding £130,000 at whatever price in convenience and self-respect; had he really intended the marriage; after all? And if, on the other hand, he had meant to forgo it and flee the country, what was the enormous threat or inducement which could make him abandon such a golden prospect for the much lesser glitter of three hundred sovereigns, genuine metal though they might be?
And Henry? Even when the death-duties had been subtracted, £130,000 was a pleasant sum, and men had done murder for less. Well, Lord Peter had undertaken to look into Henry’s affairs. She became aware that Mrs Weldon was talking.
‘What a curious face that Monsieur Antoine has,’ she was saying, ‘he seems to be a nice young man, though I’m sure he is far from robust. He spoke most kindly to me yesterday about Paul. He seems to have been very much attached to him, sincerely so.’
‘Oh, Antoine!’ thought Harriet, a little reproachfully. ‘ Then she remembered the mad mother and the imbecile brother and thought instead, ‘Poor Antoine!’ But the thought was still an unpleasant one.
‘It’s all very well for Lord Peter,’ she grumbled to herself, ‘he’s never wanted for anything.’ Why Lord Peter should be brought into the matter, she could not explain, but there is undoubtedly something irritating about the favourites of fortune.
In the meantime, that wayward sprig of the nobility was trying not to be idle. He was, in fact, hanging round the police-station, bothering the Inspector. The reports about Bright were coming in, and they fully corroborated his story, so far as they went. He had come to Wilvercombe, as he said, from a lodging-house in Seahampton, and by the train specified, and he was now living peacefully in a cheap room in Wilvercombe, without seeing any strangers and without showing the least sign of wanting to disappear. He had been taken over to Seahampton by the police on the previous day, and had been identified by Merryweather as the man to whom the Endicott razor had, been sold some time previously. In the course of a few hours, his movements for, the last few weeks had been successfully checked, and were as follows:
May 28th, Arrived in Ilfracombe from London. Four days’ employment. Dismissed as incompetent and intoxicated.
June 2nd. Arrived in Seahampton. Called at Merryweather’s and purchased razor. Five days in that town looking for employment (details checked).
June 8th. Wilvercombe. Called on Moreton, the barber on the Esplanade. Told that there might be a job later. Recommended to try Ramage’s in Lesston Hoe. Same day went on to Lesston Hoe; taken on by Ramage.
June 15th. Dismissed from Ramages drunk and incompetent. Returned to Wilvercombe; informed by Moreton that post was now filled (which it was not; but his reputation had preceded him by telephone). Tried one or two other shops without success. Slept that night in free lodging-house.
June 16th (Tuesday). Again tried for work; no result. Slept that night in workmen’s lodgings, where he arrived shortly after midnight. They were reluctant to admit him, but he showed a pound note to prove that he could pay for his bed.
June 17th. Took 9.57 train to Seahampton. Called on hairdresser named Lyttleton and asked for work. Was told that Mr Lyttleton was away, but that he could call the following morning after 11.30. Visited two more hairdressers. Took a bed in lodging-house and spent the evening and night there in company with other residents.
June 18th (day o f Alexis’ death). Left the lodging-house at 10 a.m. and went directly to the Public Library, where ‘he had sat for an “hour in the Reading Room, studying the ‘Situations Vacant’ columns in various papers. ‘ The guardian of the Reading Room had identified him. He remembered Bright perfectly, on account of some questions he had asked about the dates of publication of the local papers, and also recollected showing him the shelf on which the local directory was kept. At eleven o’clock, Bright had asked whether the library clock was right as he had an appointment at 11.30. At 11.15 he had left, presumably to keep his appointment.
The appointment was, of course, with Lyttleton, who also had no difficulty in identifying Bright. Lyttleton had returned to Seahampton by the 11.20 train, and, on reaching his shop, had found Bright waiting to see him. He told Bright that he could come and try his hand if he liked, and could start at once. Bright had worked in the toilet-saloon until one o’clock, when he had gone out to lunch. He had returned just after two o’clock and had remained at his job for — the rest of the day. The proprietor had then decided that his work was not good enough, and paid him off. It was true that nobody was able to identify him at the small restaurant where he claimed to have lunched, but. it was perfectly clear that nothing short of a magic carpet could have transported him forty miles to the Flat-Iron and back in order to commit a murder at two o’clock. Whatever part Bright had played in the tragedy, it was not that of First Murderer.
With regard to Bright’s earlier history, they had made very little progress — principally because Bright himself did not even pretend to remember the various aliases under which he had passed from time to time in the. last few years.’ The only statement they had so far succeeded in confirming