"Well, if Lily took her affairs out of our dear Mr.. Eddleston's hands, it's news to me!" replied Miss Pickhill. "Of course, I daresay it's young Mr.. Eddleston who looks after things now, but that her Will is deposited with them I do know, for Lily told me she was making me one of poor little Cynthia's trustees, just in case anything should happen to her, which she didn't for a moment expect, or I either, if it comes to that, and Mr.. Eddleston the other. For I said to her at the time, Don't name Mr.. Lowick, because if you do, I said, I shall refuse to act. Mr.. Lowick is the junior partner, and when I tell you that the day I went up to see him about the ground-rent he not only kept me waiting for ten whole minutes, but received me with a pipe in his hand, you will understand why I said what I did. There are limits!"
Jotting the name down in his book, Hemingway said: "Well, madam, I think that's all at present. I shall be getting into touch with Mr.. Eddleston at once. You'll understand that I shall have to go through Mrs. Haddington's papers, and her solicitor will of course be present. Until then, I have had the boudoir and her bedroom locked up."
Miss Pickhill plainly took this amiss, for she bridled, and said in a stiff voice: "Well, really, I can't see what you want with my poor sister's private papers, and as for locking her bedroom, I call it most officious!"
"Just a matter of routine!" Hemingway said.
"I've no doubt!" interrupted Miss Pickhill. "It's exactly what Mr.. Broseley was saying to me only the other day! Encroachment! Ever since the War, officials seem to think they can do exactly as they like, and I daresay the police are just as bad as the Ministry of Food, interfering right and left, and telling people how to cook cabbages, which we all knew long before they were ever born or thought of!"
"I wouldn't think of telling you how to cook cabbages, madam!" Hemingway assured her. "For one thing, I don't know, and for another -"
"I should hope not indeed! It would be a great deal more to the point if you drilled some of your new policemen, let me tell you! In my young days the police were fine, upstanding men, but whenever I come to London now all I see is a lot of young constables, standing about with their chests in and their stomachs out, and their mouths hanging open. I wouldn't even ask one of them for the time! Enough to make my father turn in his grave!"
Reflecting that Mr.. Pickhill's ghost must be the most restless one ever to disturb a cemetery, Hemingway said meekly: "It's a scandal, madam: I've often thought so. But I daresay you wouldn't want to stop me finding out who murdered Mrs. Haddington!"
"Certainly not! Quite apart from my personal feelings I trust I am a good citizen! Good Citizenship was the subject of the last lecture we had at the Women's Conservative Institute, and most interesting! But why prying into my sister's letters, and things, should help you to find out who murdered her is more than I can fathom!
In fact," said Miss Pickhill, obscurely but terrifyingly, "it is all on a par!"