"Why not? He won't give up ten thousand a year."
"No. But Derrick thinks, as you will see in the paper, that Mrs. Brand was killed by her husband."
Bocaros started back. "Horrible! Horrible!" Then piteously, "My friend, what am I to do?"
"Take my advice, and go right along to see Laing and Merry. They'll help you through." And this Bocaros agreed to do.
"And I will spend the money in hunting for the assassin," said he.
CHAPTER IX
[MRS. BRAND'S WILL]
The office of Laing and Merry was in Milton Street, on the ground floor of a dingy pile of buildings. There was only one representative of the firm, as Laing was dead, and his executors had disposed of the business to Merry. This gentleman carried on the office work with three clerks, of which one was his son. At a future date the younger Merry was to be admitted into the business, and at present was serving his articles. Merry retained the name of Laing on the office door-plate, as that gentleman had been a much-respected member of the profession, and his name inspired confidence.
Regarding Merry's own name, which was certainly odd, it fitted him extremely well. He was a stout and rubicund lawyer, not at all resembling the accepted type. There was nothing dry and solemn about Merry. He seemed to be a simple sort of person, and clients sometimes doubted his abilities. But all this cheerfulness was assumed. He really was as deep as a well, but it was a well wherein Truth did not reside. Not that Merry did anything likely to get himself struck off the Rolls. He was far too clever for that. But he was certainly unscrupulous, and more than a match for the majority of rascals. He always looked for the worst in a man, but his smile and complacent fatness disarmed all suspicion of his talents. Many a sharper had cause to rue trusting to the deceitful appearance of the lawyer.
Mr. Merry sat alone in a dingy room, the window of which looked out on to a blank wall. The room was surrounded by black-painted deed-boxes, and was remarkably dusty. Before the lawyer was a pile of letters which he intended to answer shortly. But at the present moment he was looking at yesterday's copy of the Daily Budget. It belonged to Merry junior, and his father had taken it in to read the paragraph pointed out by his son. It was that which dealt with the finding of Fairy Lodge, and the identification of Flora Brand with the woman who had been murdered in Ajax Villa. After mastering the article, Merry rang the bell, and raised his eyes when his son appeared at the door.