‘I’m extremely glad,’ said Alleyn, who had known perfectly well that Mr Rattisbon, given time, would arrive at precisely this decision. ‘Our principal concern at the moment is to discover whether Sir Henry Ancred actually concocted his last Will after he left the party on the eve of his death.’

‘Emphatically no. It was drawn up, in this office, on Sir Henry’s instruction, on Thursday, the twenty-second of November of this year, together with a second document, which was the one quoted by Sir Henry as his last Will and Testament at his Birthday dinner.’

‘This all sounds rather erratic.’

Mr Rattisbon rapidly scratched his nose with the nail of his first finger. ‘The procedure,’ he said, ‘was extraordinary, I ventured to say so at the time. Let me take these events in their order. On Tuesday, the twentieth November, Mrs Henry Irving Ancred telephoned this office to the effect that Sir Henry Ancred wished me to call upon him immediately. It was most inconvenient, but the following day I went down to Ancreton. I found him in a state of considerable agitation and clothed—m-m-m-ah—in a theatrical costume. I understood that he had been posing for his portrait. May I add, in parentheses,’ said Mr Rattisbon with a bird-like dip of his head, ‘that although your wife was at Ancreton, I had not the pleasure of meeting her on that occasion. I enjoyed this privilege upon my later visit.’

‘Troy told me.’

‘It was the greatest pleasure. To return. On this first visit of Wednesday the twenty-first of November, Sir Henry Ancred showed me his rough drafts of two Wills. One moment.’

With darting movements, Mr Rattisbon drew from his filing cabinet two sheafs of paper covered in a somewhat flamboyant script. He handed them to Alleyn. A glance showed him their nature. ‘Those are the drafts,’ said Mr Rattisbon. ‘He required me to engross two separate Wills based on these notes. I remarked that this procedure was unusual. He put it to me that he was unable to come to a decision regarding the—ah—the merits of his immediate relatives, and was, at the same time, contemplating a second marriage. His previous Will, in my opinion a reasonable disposition, he had already destroyed. He instructed me to bring these two new documents to Ancreton when I returned for the annual Birthday observances. The first was the Will witnessed and signed before the dinner and quoted by Sir Henry at dinner as his last Will and Testament. It was destroyed late that evening. The second is the document upon which we are at present empowered to act. It was signed and witnessed in Sir Henry Ancred’s bedroom at twelve-twenty that night—against, may I add, against my most earnest representations.’

‘Two Wills,’ Alleyn said, ‘in readiness for a final decision.’