"You must come up another time. I'm here for a month—getting my strength up for the exams and all that. If you can't get away before I go, we'll put it off till August and have a shot at the grouse. The cottage is always at your service, you know, Wimsey."
"Many thanks. I may get my business over quicker than I think, and, if I do, I'll turn up here again. When did you say your great-uncle died?"
Macpherson stared at him.
"Some time in April, as far as I can remember. Why?"
"Oh, nothing—I just wondered. You were a favourite of his, didn't you say?"
"In a sense. I think the old boy liked my remembering him from time to time. Old people are pleased by little attentions, you know."
"M'm. Well, it's a queer world. What did you say his name was?"
"Ferguson—Joseph Alexander Ferguson, to be exact. You seem extraordinarily interested in Great-Uncle Joseph."
"I thought, while I was about it, I might look up a man I know in the ship-building line, and see if he knows anything about where the money went to."
"If you can do that, Cousin Robert will give you a medal. But, if you really want to exercise your detective powers on the problem, you'd better have a hunt through the flat in Glasgow."