“Thanks,” said Hannasyde, his own lips curving a little. “It would, of course.” He took out his notebook and opened it. “I understand that the dead man was chairman and managing director of the Shan Hills Mine? Is that correct?”
“Quite correct.”
“Unmarried?”
Giles sat down on the edge of the table. “Yes.”
“Can you tell me of what his immediate family consists?”
“His half-brother and half-sister, that's all.” Giles took out a cigarette and tapped it on his case. “Arnold Vereker was the eldest son of Geoffrey Vereker by his first wife, my father's sister, Maud. He was forty last December. There was one other son by that marriage, Roger, who would be thirty-eight if he were alive now — which, thank heaven, he's not. He was not precisely an ornament to the family, There was a certain amount of relief felt when he cleared out years ago. He went to South America, and I believe got himself mixed up in some revolution or other. Anyway, he's been dead about seven years now. Kenneth Vereker and his sister Antonia are the offspring of a second marriage. Their mother died shortly after Antonia's birth. My uncle died a month or two before Roger, leaving both Kenneth and Antonia under Arnold's guardianship.”
“Thank you, Mr Carrington: I hoped you would be able to help me. Can you tell me what sort of man Arnold Vereker was?”
“A man with a genius for making enemies,” replied Giles promptly. “He was one of those natural bullies who can yet make themselves very pleasant when they choose. Queer chap, with a streak of appalling vulgarity. Yet at the bottom there was something quite likeable about him. Chief hobbies, women and social climbing.”
“I think I know the type. From what I can make out he had a bit of a bad reputation down here.”
“I shouldn't be surprised. Arnold would never go weekending to an hotel for fear of being seen. He always wanted to stand well in the eyes of the world. Hence Riverside Cottage. Is it known, by the way, whether he had one of his fancies with him last night?”