‘Why, that is so, I suppose.’ Daunt tried to make his voice cheery and sanguine.
‘Very well. I came to that conclusion days ago. Now Jimmy, it’s a horrible thing to say, but who is the only other person we know of that fits the conditions?’
Daunt looked up swiftly. It was suddenly evident to him that Lois was speaking with a more direct object than he had thought.
‘I don’t know, Lois,’ he answered. ‘Who?’
‘Who but the cousin—Mr Cosgrove Ponson?’
‘Good Heavens! That never occurred to me. But does he fill the bill?’
‘I have thought so for some time, but it’s a matter for you to find out. But just consider. Mr Cosgrove benefits by the will—Austin told me so. He knew Sir William and all about Luce Manor; he knew Austin and all about him; he was like Austin in appearance; and lastly he knew me—he has dined here with Austin.’
‘Your handwriting?’
‘I wrote to thank him for sending me the name of an English pension at Cannes—a friend of mine wanted to know.’
‘When was that?’