Pointer pressed a button and had the will handed over to the Yard's experts to be photographed and enlarged.
“Now about this Henry Carter, who is he?”
“I never heard of him before in my life. He won't be a Perthshire man.”
The Chief Inspector played with his fountain pen for a while.
“Do you think Mrs. Erskine could come over for the adjourned inquest? It won't be till a week from Tuesday?”
“I doubt it might kill her. She is a very delicate woman. Robert was her only child, you remember. Nor can I see the point. In his letter he says clearly enough that his intention is to commit suicide. And as for identification—she hasn't seen him since I have. He's never been back to Europe before. I know that.”
“Did you know that he was coming?”
“My dear sir, I know as little of Robert Erskine's movements these last years as I do of the Pope. Barring that receipt for the thousand pounds, and that envelope with his scrap of a will inside, we haven't heard from him since his father died these many years ago. And at that time it was my father who transacted the winding up of the estate. I was but a lad.”
“Well, I hope Mrs. Erskine will come. I must run over to France, if not. She may be able to throw some light on the reasons for her son's—ah—end. Now, Mr. Russell, do you happen to know whether Mr. Robert or Mr. Ian Erskine took any interest in politics out in Canada?”
“I do remember a letter my father read me, in which Mr. Erskine—Mr. Henry Erskine—spoke of difficulties his brother was having with some Communist settlers near by; but what would that have to do with young Erskine's suicide?”