Enter Mr. Allery
After the inquest there was nothing to keep Miss Watson in London. A
sad cortège started from Leveson Square after dark, for, in the
circumstances, they had no wish for public display.
The body of the dead statesman was being taken to Devonshire for
burial. In all the arrangements Collins had played an important but
unobtrusive part, and now, on the departure platform, he had quietly
seen to her comfort in the little ways a woman appreciates.
Papers were ready, seats booked at the dining table, and the carriage
reserved by a well-tipped guard.
Eric Sanders had already gone on, as it was necessary to go through
all the dead man’s papers, and, as private secretary, he was assisting
the police in this matter.
An aged and lachrymose aunt had turned up from somewhere, and was
acting chaperon.
The old nurse had been relegated to what the aunt called her proper
place. Collins had completely won the heart of the old nurse with an
easy courtesy which is neither patronage nor familiarity, and she had
sworn by him ever since he had taken them to the theatre. On that
occasion he had, with great tact, laid himself out to amuse the old
lady, while Mabel was left to her sulky Eric, which accentuated the
contrast.
Now he had taken as much care in seeing to the comfort of the two old
servants (for the butler was going back with them), as with Miss
Watson herself—a fact she was quick to note and appreciate.
They were standing on the platform, waiting for the train to start,
and Mabel gave him her hand.
“I am most awfully grateful to you for all you have done,” she said.
“I don’t know how I should have got on without you. This has been a
very trying time, but it would have been far worse but for your
management.” He was pleased at the compliment.
“It has been a real pleasure to do what I could, and no trouble, for I
have had to be in the thick of things, from my position.”
A cloud crossed her face.
“Yes, of course. You are trying to find the criminal.”
“I am trying first to find your brother.”
“Oh, I hope you do. It would be so comforting at this time if he were
here.”
“I will let you know directly I hear anything.”
“Oh, but I hope you will do more than that. You must come and see us
when we are more settled,” she added wistfully.
They were joined by Mr. Allery, the senior partner of Allery &
Watkins, the family lawyers. Collins and he had seen a good deal of
each other during these few days, and had grown to like each other.
He took Mabel’s hand in a fatherly way.
“Now, you must not get down there and fret and worry. It’s all
terribly sad, but you are young, and when you have got over the first
grief, you must rouse yourself up. There’s nothing worse than moping.”
“Then the best way you can help is to come and see me,” she said with
a smile, “and bring Mr. Collins with you. You are both golfers, and
there are several excellent links near us.”
“I shall be delighted,” said the lawyer. “I need a change. Only you
must remind me, or I shall never come,” and he laughed in a genial,
full-blooded way.
He had a charming, old-world courtesy, and what in doctors is called a
good bedside manner.
The train moved off, leaving the two men standing on the platform.
“Poor girl,” said Allery. “I have known her since she was a baby. It’s
a sad blow to her, but, between ourselves, it may be a good thing. Sir
James was a fine man, but he was very selfish with her. She was
absolutely tied up with him, and could go nowhere. He warned off all
possible suitors, and made her live the life of a nun.”
“I gather that Sanders rather bit his fingers there.” Allery looked at
him shrewdly.
“You haven’t taken long to find that out,” he said. “Yes, I believe he
did. He is an able young fellow, of good family, and in every way
desirable, but for some reason Sir James would not hear of an
engagement. Of course, it was very awkward, as he was his private
secretary, and Sir James was too fair minded a man to get rid of him
for domestic reasons which would have ruined his prospects. But it
couldn’t have gone on. He actually talked to me about altering his
will if Mabel did not give Eric up.”
Collins looked interested.
“We can’t stand talking here. Let me give you a lift in my car. Where
can I take you?”
“That’s most kind of you. I have an hour before my train goes, so I
shall just go to my club. You’d better come in for a few minutes.”
In the club smoking room, after a general talk, Collins gently led the
conversation back to the subject about which he wanted information.
“You knew young Watson, I suppose?” The lawyer’s face hardened.
“Yes,” he said shortly, “I knew him. A wastrel.”
“I rather gathered,” said Collins, “that he was just a somewhat wild
youth, who went the pace at Oxford.”
“I am afraid it did not stop at that,” said the other, and closed his
mouth in a way that indicated he did not wish to continue. Collins saw
it, and asked no more.
Allery, however, volunteered one bit of information.
“Sir James made a curious will. It will be proved soon, and so there
is no particular secret. If his son was found, and was willing to
settle down in Devonshire, he was to have a half share after certain
small legacies had been paid. If not, the whole was to go to Mabel.
She gets half in any case. It was left to me to decide whether he was
fulfilling the conditions. That’ll be a nice task.”
“Supposing we can’t find him.”
“Then Mabel takes her half and the interest on the other, which
remains in trust, until it is decided that he is dead. The discretion
rests with me.”
“A very reasonable arrangement,” said Collins.