“Remember! Damn! damn! damn! Why didn’t I think of it? What an asinine fool I was. That must have been Mrs. Garnett. Baxter, why don’t you kick me?”
“I ought to be kicked myself. We were a pair of fools.”
“That explains why she was so interested. Yes, she wanted to know about the trust.”
“Tempest, had you thought all this out when that case was on? If you had, then I will kick you.”
“No, old man, I hadn’t. I was arguing it out with Yardley a few days ago. To be perfectly frank, I tried to put a certain proposition to him, and he kept on objecting and objecting; and all the time, as I was explaining away his objections to him, I was step by step arguing myself further on. That’s the real truth.”
“I wish we had got hold of that woman. Her presence in court that day seems to confirm your theory, Tempest.”
“Baxter, go back to your office and make inquiries whether any of your clients have altered their wills since the date of Evangeline Stableford’s death.”
“I’ve asked that already. We know of no alteration of a will by any client. Of course, we’ve made a good many wills since; but, as far as I can find out, none of them are for any client for whom we held a previous one. But Sir John was a clever lawyer, and I don’t for one moment suppose that the firm would hold such a will as you suppose exists, if we held the other ends of the tangled thread, as apparently we do. It’s all amazingly funny, Tempest.”
“I think it is,” began the barrister, as with his eyes on the ground he slowly paced on along the pavement.
“I’ve a warrant for your arrest, Mr. Baxter!” and both the men turned, as an inspector of police, overtaking them, placed his hand on the solicitor’s arm.