Dalgliesh said, “Yes to the first part of your question. I don’t believe the confession in its entirety, but in one respect it’s true. She both murdered Miss Gradwyn and was responsible for the death of Mr. Boyton. She has confessed to planning the murder of Sharon Bateman. By then she must have made up her mind to kill herself. Once she suspected that I knew the truth about the last will, she couldn’t risk a cross-examination in court.”

Philip Kershaw said, “The truth about the last will. I thought we would come to that. But do you know the truth? And even if you do, would it stand up in court? If she were alive and were convicted of forging the signatures, both of her father and of the two witnesses, the legal complications over the will, with Boyton dead, would be considerable. It’s a pity I can’t discuss some of them with my colleagues.”

He seemed almost animated for the first time since Dalgliesh had entered the room. Dalgliesh asked, “And what, under oath, would you have said?”

“About the will? That I regarded it as valid and had no suspicions about the signatures either of the testator or of the witnesses. Compare the writing on these two wills. Can there be any doubt that they are by the same hand? Commander, there is nothing you can do and nothing you need to do. This will could only have been challenged by Robin Boyton, and Boyton is dead. Neither you nor the Metropolitan Police have any locus standi in this matter. You have your confession. You have your murderess. The case is closed. The money was bequeathed to the two people who had the best right to it.”

Dalgliesh said, “I accept that, given the confession, nothing more can reasonably be done. But I don’t like unfinished business. I needed to know if I was right and if possible to understand. You have been very helpful. Now I know the truth, insofar as it can be known, and I think I understand why she did it. Or is that too arrogant a claim?”

“To know the truth and to understand it? Yes, with respect, Commander, I think it is. An arrogance and, perhaps, an impertinence. How we scrap around in the lives of the famous dead, like squawking chickens pecking at every piece of gossip and scandal. And now I have a question for you. Would you be willing to break the law if by doing so you could right a wrong or benefit a person you loved?”