“Just what I say, Tempest. The trust, as it appears from the clause of the will, is a holy terror of a mystery; but when you come to read our instructions you’ll find that it’s twenty times as much a mystery. Here, read this!” and the solicitor passed across a letter.
“To Arthur Baxter, Charles Marston, Edward Moorhouse, my partners and friends.
“Forgive me if I remind you that your partnerships in the firm were not purchased in cash, but were given to you by myself in testimony of my high appreciation of your several abilities, of your worth, your integrity, and discretion. I have always had and still retain my high opinion of you all. As you will be aware, from my will, my remaining half share in the proprietorship of the firm I have bequeathed equally amongst you, and I have in my will also bequeathed to you jointly the sum of £20,000 upon trust. May I rest assured you will repay the obligations I remind you of, by accepting the trouble this trust may entail? The object of the trust is to pay the annual income arising from the capital moneys of the trust to the partners in the firm for the time being, as an annual payment for their services in preserving that capital intact. Whatever changes may take place in the firm after my death at any time during the continuance of the trust, I desire that the necessary steps shall be taken for its proper preservation. A certain eventuality may at some time arise, for which I wish to provide, should it ever happen. But I cannot provide for it, save by a disclosure which would amount to a breach of honour, a breach of confidence, and a breach of trust. That eventuality may never arise. Writing calmly and deliberately I say, for your guidance, that it is probable that it never will arise; but if it ever does, then certain information is necessary to enable you to act justly and as I desire. That information is contained in the sealed packet which you will find herewith; but, if you have any gratitude to my memory, then I solemnly charge you to respect my wishes that that packet shall remain sealed and its contents unexamined until events compel this by the occurrence of the eventuality for which I am providing. I cannot indicate what that eventuality will be, or in what manner it will arise, and I leave the point entirely to your discretion to determine whether it has arrived or not. I say only, that if it does you will at once recognise it. It will be plainly apparent beyond doubt that it has arisen, and I warn you that any eventuality as to which you have doubt cannot be the one I am providing for. If at the end of a hundred years, from the 18th August 1881, no such eventuality has arisen, it will by then be impossible for it ever to occur, and I then desire that this packet shall be destroyed unopened. The commencement of any litigation which may involve the disclosure of the information in the packet is to be held to be the termination of the trust, and I desire this my wish to be regarded as a vital part of the trust, and I leave it as a sacred charge upon you all that the packet shall be immediately destroyed. Offering you my gratitude, not only for your past devotion to the firm, but also for the personal friendship of yourselves, which it has been my privilege to enjoy.—I remain, your affectionate partner, John Rellingham.”
“You are right about the mystery, Baxter.”
“Yes. I wonder if any such trust has ever been created before!”
“I doubt it. Still, it’s all pretty plain sailing. You three are just to draw the income till some overpowering circumstance occurs which advertises itself as the occasion Sir John refers to.”
“I haven’t told you quite all, Tempest. The Home Secretary has commenced litigation, and he has also obtained an ex parte injunction, restraining our firm from destroying any documents or dealing with the trust, pending an order of the court.”
“Then by the terms of the will the trust is already at an end, and you rake in and divide the capital. But it’s rather awkward about the documents. By the terms of the trust they must at once be destroyed, and yet you say the Crown have got an injunction to prevent you. What have you done?”
“What should you have done, Tempest?”
The barrister laughed. “Are you here for a professional opinion?”