CHAPTER 10-3

 

"Who gets it if I die?"

　　"As things stand now, it would go to your next ofkin."

　　"I mean – I couldn‘t make a will now, could I? Not until I was twenty-one. That’s what someone told me."

　　"They were quite right."

　　"That‘s really ratherannoying. If I was married and died I suppose my husband would get the money?"

　　"Yes."

　　"And if I wasn’tmarried my mother would be my next of kin and get it. I really seem to have very fewrelations – I don‘t even know mymother. What is she like?"

　　"She’s a veryremarkable woman," said Egerton shortly. "Everybody would agree to that."

　　"Didn‘t she ever wantto see me?"

　　"She may have done… Ithink it’s very possible that she did. But having made in –certain ways – rather a mess of her ownlife, she may have thought that it was better for you that you should be brought up quiteapart from her."

　　"Do you actually know that she thinks that?"

　　"No. I don‘t reallyknow anything about it."

　　Elvira got up.

　　"Thank you," she said."It’s very kind of you to tell meall this."

　　"I think perhaps you ought to have been told moreabout things before," said Egerton.

　　"It‘s ratherhumiliating not to know things," said Elvira. "Uncle Derek, of course, think I’m just a child."

　　"Well, he‘s not a veryyoung man himself. He and I, you know, are well advanced in years. You must makeallowances for us when we look at things from the point of view of our advanced age."

　　Elvira stood looking at him for a moment or two.

　　"But you don’t think I‘m really a child, do you?" she said shrewdly, andadded, "I expect you know rather more about girls than UncleDerek does. He just lived with his sister. Then she stretched out her hand and said, veryprettily, Thank you so much. I hope I haven’t interrupted someimportant work you had to do," and went out.

　　Egerton stood looking at the door that had closedbehind her. He pursed up his lips, whistled a moment, shook his head and sat down again,picked up a pen and tapped thoughtfully on his desk. He drew some papers towards him, thenthrust them back and picked up his telephone.

　　"Miss Cordell, get me Colonel Luscombe, will you?Try his club first. And then the Shropshire address."

　　He put back the receiver. Again he drew his paperstowards him and started reading them but his mind was not on what he was doing. Presentlyhis buzzer went.

　　"Colonel Luscombe is on the wire now, Mr. Egerton.“

　　"Right. Put him through. Hallo, Derek. RichardEgerton here. How are you? I‘ve just been having a visit fromsomeone you know. A visit from your ward."

　　"From Elvira?" DerekLuscombe sounded very surprised.

　　"Yes."

　　"But why – what onearth – what did she come to you for? Not in any trouble?"

　　"No, I wouldn’t sayso. On the contrary, she seemed rather – well, pleased withherself. She wanted to know all about her financial position."

　　"You didn‘t tell her,I hope?" said Colonel Luscombe, in alarm.

　　"Why not? What’s thepoint of secrecy?"

　　"Well, I can‘t helpfeeling it’s a little unwise for a girl to know that she isgoing to come into such a large amount of money."

　　"Somebody else will tell her that, if we don‘t. She’s got to be prepared, you know. Money is aresponsibility."

　　"Yes, but she‘s somuch of a child still."

　　"Are you sure of that?"

　　"What do you mean? Of course she’s a child."

　　"I wouldn‘t describeher as such. Who’s the boy friend?"

　　"I beg your pardon."

　　"I said who‘s the boyfriend? There is a boy friend in the offing, isn’t there?"

　　"No, indeed. Nothing of the sort. What on earthmakes you think that?"

　　"Nothing that she actually said. But I‘ve got some experience, you know. I think you’llfind there is a boy friend."

　　"Well, I can assure you you‘re quite wrong. I mean, she’s been most carefullybrought up, she‘s been at very strict schools, she’s been in a very select finishing establishment in Italy. I should know ifthere was anything of that kind going on. I dare say she‘s metone or two pleasant young fellows and all that, but I’m surethere‘s been nothing of the kind you suggest."

　　"Well, my diagnosis is a boy friend – and probably an undesirable one."

　　"But why, Richard, why? What do you know aboutyoung girls?"

　　"Quite a lot," saidEgerton dryly. "I’ve had threeclients in the last year, two of whom were made wards of court and the third one managedto bully her parents into agreeing to an almost certainly disastrous marriage. Girls don‘t get looked after the way they used to be. Conditions are such that it’s very difficult to look after them at all –”