“What a shame!” said Randall. “It sounds very common—almost vulgar. I think I will throw away the rest of my cigarette.”
“I don't propose to take up your time —”
“My valuable time,” interpolated Randall gently.
“—any longer than I need, Mr Matthews, but as I find that you are not only the heir to your uncle's property but also the head of the family, I thought it only right to call on you. It will be necessary for the police to go through the deceased's papers.”
“Ah, you want my uncle's solicitor,” said Randall. “I am sure you will like him.”
“I don't think I have his name,” Hannasyde said. “Perhaps you would be good enough —”
“Certainly,” said Randall. “His name is Carrington.” Hannasyde looked up quickly from his notebook.
“Carrington?”
“Giles Carrington. I think there are more of them, and I am sure I went to Adam Street to visit them.”
“Thank you,” said Hannasyde. “I know Mr Giles Carrington very well. Now, if you would answer one or two questions, Mr Matthews, I need not detain you. When did you last see your uncle?”