The solicitor looked austerely at him over the top of his pince-nez. ‘It is, as you no doubt perceive, a brief document,’ he said. ‘Had I been consulted – But I was not.’

‘I think it’s all right,’ Joseph said guiltily. ‘My brother wouldn’t let me send for you, but I think I remembered enough of my early training to draw it up correctly.’

‘It will of course have to be proved,’ said Blyth in a cold tone. ‘Where such a large sum of money is involved, I should naturally have advised the employment of a solicitor. But I am well aware of the late Mr Herriard’s peculiarities.’

‘Who – is – the – heir?’ demanded Stephen.

Blyth looked affronted, and Mottisfont muttered something about observing a little decency. The Inspector, however, supported Stephen, and said that he too would like to know who was the heir.

‘There are two bequests,’ said Blyth. ‘Miss Paula Herriard inherits fifteen thousand pounds; Mr Joseph Herriard, ten thousand pounds. The residue, including the house and estate, is left to Mr Stephen Herriard, unconditionally.’

There was a moment’s silence. Stephen jerked his head round to stare at his uncle. ‘What in hell’s name did you do that for?’ he asked angrily.

Even Blyth looked surprised. The Inspector stood watching Stephen with the interest of a connoisseur. Joseph said: ‘It was Nat, old man, not I. I only helped him to draw it up.’

‘Encouraged him to leave a fortune to me, I suppose!’

The savage, gibing note in Stephen’s voice made Mottisfont’s jaw drop. The Inspector looked from Stephen’s harsh face to Joseph’s worried one, and waited.

‘Stephen, I can’t bear you to speak so bitterly of Nat!’ Joseph said. ‘You know he thought the world of you! I didn’t have to encourage him to make you his heir! He always meant it to be that way. The only thing I did was to persuade him to make a proper will.’

‘Well, I call it very decent of you, Joe!’ said Mottisfont, unable to contain himself. ‘It isn’t everyone who’d have behaved as you’ve done.’

‘My dear Edgar, I hope you didn’t think I was the Wicked Uncle of the fairy-stories!’

‘No; but I should have expected – You were Nat’s brother, after all! Ten thousand only! Well, I never would have believed it!’

Joseph gave one of his whimsical smiles. ‘I’m afraid it seems a dreadfully large sum to me. I never could cope with money. You can say I am an impractical old fool, if you like, but I should have been very uncomfortable if Nat had left me more.’

This was so unusual a point of view that no one could think of anything to say. After a pause, Blyth cleared his throat, and enquired whether the Inspector wished to go through his late client’s papers.

Joseph sighed. ‘If you must, I suppose you must,’ he said. ‘Somehow one hates the thought of poor Nat’s papers being tampered with!’

‘I can’t see the least sense in it,’ said Mottisfont. ‘They aren’t likely to throw any light on the murder.’