“Oh!” said the Colonel rather blankly. “Damned annoying! Got anything to tell me?”
“No, sir, I can't say I have. The soup's thickening nicely, which is as far as I'm prepared to go at the moment.”
“You seemed pleased!” said the Colonel.
“I am,” admitted Hemingway. “In my experience, sir the thicker it gets the quicker you'll solve it. Can you tell me anything about the way Mr. Ainstable's estate is settled?”
“No,” replied the Colonel, looking at him narrowly. “I can't. Except that the heir is Ainstable's nephew. Do you mean it's entailed?”
“Not exactly, no. At some date a settlement was made, but what the terms of it were I don't know. The Squire doesn't own the estate, that's all I know.”
“Good God! I had no idea—are you sure of your facts, Hemingway?”
“I'm sure he's only the tenant-for-life, sir, and I know the name of the firm of solicitors who act for the trustees of the settlement. But that's just about all I do know. How old was Mr. Ainstable's son when he was killed?”
The Colonel reflected. “He and my boy were at school together, so he must have been nineteen and—no, he was a few months older than Michael. About twenty.”
“Not of age. Then the estate must have been settled by his grandfather, or resettled by him. It can't have been resettled by this man while his son was still a minor. I'm not very well up in these things, but I did once have a case which hinged on the settlement of a big estate.”