“That is a difficult question. She is very thick with Robert Ellery, the young playwright, you know; but whether she is in love with him is more than I can tell you. He is obviously in love with her. It was the common talk, and everybody, knew about it except Sir Vernon.”
“This Mr. Ellery—can you tell me anything about him? He was at the dinner, was he not?”
“Yes, he’s a ward of old Mr. Lucas, one of Sir Vernon’s oldest friends. A good deal about with Joan, and a frequent visitor at Sir Vernon’s country place. A nice enough fellow, so far as I have seen.”
“Was he on good terms with Mr. Prinsep?”
“Prinsep did not like his going about with Joan, I think. Otherwise, they seemed to get on all right.”
“Now, Mr. Woodman, I want to ask you a somewhat difficult question. I should, of course, ask Sir Vernon himself, if he were well enough. You know, presumably, the terms of Sir Vernon’s will. Do you feel at liberty to tell me about its contents? They might throw some light on the question of motive.”
The lawyer thought a moment. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you the whole thing—in confidence,” he said. “Sir Vernon told them all that night what was in his will, and you certainly ought to know about it. The greater part of his property was to be divided at his death between his two nephews, who have now unhappily predeceased him.”
“Yes, and in the event of the death of either or both of the nephews, what was to happen?”
“If Mr. George Brooklyn died, half of his share was to go to Mrs. George and half to Prinsep. If Prinsep died, half of his share was to go to Miss Joan Cowper. Sir Vernon explained that his arrangements were based on her marrying Prinsep.”
“Then, under the will, Miss Cowper now gets half Mr. Prinsep’s share. Does she get half Mr. George’s share also?”