“I’ve just been working on those Trentbeck leases, and I may as well finish them. I’m really in no hurry to go, sir.”
“Oh, those can wait, Smith. I’d rather you went. Just lock up everything before you go.”
“Sir John was found still seated at his writing-table, but dead”
“Very well, Sir John,” had been the answer; and the man, in obedience to the directions given him, had put books and papers away, locked up the safe, and gone. Of what took place afterwards no one had any knowledge. On the following day Sir John was found still seated at his writing-table, but dead: shot through the temple.
No weapon of any kind was found in the room, and the appearance of the wound left no doubt that the shot must have been fired from only a short distance. That it was murder there could be no doubt. Suicide was perfectly impossible.
Before the coroner’s jury had brought in their verdict of “Wilful murder by some person or persons unknown,” the whole of the public Press was seething with excitement. The firm of Rellingham, Baxter, Marston & Moorhouse stood at the head of the profession. It had behind it more than a century of untarnished and honourable repute; half the peerage employed the firm in those parts of their legal necessities which were of a reputable character, and the name of one or other of the partners in the firm was to be found as a trustee in a very large proportion of the great family settlements which were in operation. The capital for which the firm somehow or other stood in the relation of trustee ran into many millions. But the public had become suspicious of solicitor trustees, and every one waited for the impending crash to which the mysterious death of Sir John appeared to be the usual prelude. Men whispered, “How much will they break for?” But the crash never came. An immediate and searching audit, required at once by the surviving partners, disclosed the facts that there was not a penny missing, not a single suspicious circumstance in the affairs of the firm. Its repute was as untarnished, its integrity as unchallengable as had been the case throughout the long history of the firm; and the public really began to believe in the truth of the verdict at the inquest. The murder, of course, engaged the keenest attention of the police; but as the weeks flew by without producing any explanation of the mystery, the partners of Sir John commenced to take steps of their own. Sir John, they knew, was a widower, without children, and with few relatives, but many friends. Carefully and methodically his partners, who were his executors, examined and scrutinised every paper left by Sir John both at his house and at his office. Everything was perfectly open, straightforward, and free from any trace of suspicion upon which a clue could be founded. Everything was ordinary, humdrum, and usual, with one exception.
This one exception was a clause in Sir John’s will, and this clause ran as follows:—
“I give and bequeath, free of all charges and legacy duty, the sum of £20,000 to my partners, Arthur Baxter, Charles Marston, and Edward Moorhouse, upon trust, to be applied by them to and for the purposes which I have taken steps to sufficiently indicate to them, such trust to be executed according to their honour and integrity, of which I am well satisfied, and without the interference, check, or control of any person or persons whomsoever; and I direct that if at any time, in the absolute exercise of their unfettered discretion, they or the survivors or survivor of them shall at any time decide that the further existence of the trust which I have hereby constituted and created has become impossible, then and forthwith the said trust shall immediately cease and determine, and my said partners or the then survivors or survivor of them shall stand possessed in their or his own right and for their or his own use and benefit of the capital moneys of the said trust, and shall not be required by anybody to render accounts or explanations of their or his dealings with the trust or of their or his action or actions in regard to it. And I further direct that if at any time this trust or the capital moneys of this trust shall be or shall become the subject matter of litigation through the interference or intervention of any party or parties other than my said partners, or the survivors or survivor of them, then and forthwith and from the commencement of such litigation the said trust shall cease and determine, and the capital sums of the said trust shall be distributed and applied in the form and manner above provided.”
In due course of time the will of Sir John Rellingham was proved, and, as was only to be expected, this curious clause was reprinted in the Press pretty widely. The mystery of Sir John’s murder had remained unsolved, and was passing into the oblivion of public forgetfulness, when curiosity was again aroused by the strange wording of the clause in Sir John’s will. All other clues had failed. Here was the chance of a clue. The sensational Press thundered for a full revelation of this secret trust, arguing speciously that the mystery of Sir John’s death was a matter of public concern, and private interests must bow to public necessities. The partners met the demand by a point-blank refusal to disclose any information whatever. As one of them—Arthur Baxter—said to an inquisitive reporter: “The public know of the clause in the will—the law has compelled us to disclose it; but if we could have avoided doing so, we should not have made even that much public. It would have been possible, by making other arrangements for Sir John, to have obviated even that disclosure; but you can take it from me that a secret trust in a will is not an uncommon occurrence. If Sir John had not been murdered, the clause would never have attracted any attention. But Sir John was a clever lawyer, and he knew perfectly well, when he drew that clause, that public curiosity as to its meaning need not be satisfied, and no doubt he preferred to run the risk of that curiosity rather than constitute the trust in his own lifetime. So you can tell your editor, with my compliments and the compliments of the firm and my partners individually and collectively, that we will see him and his paper and all of the rest of the Press a good deal further on its way to an undesirable place before we give one word of explanation of that clause.”