As he spoke, he seated himself at the desk; but before he opened it, he cast a glance round the room, and said, with a cough: "This, I believe, is the actual room where… ?"
"That chair," said Hemingway, indicating it.
Mr.. Eddleston set his pince-nez on his nose the better to survey the fatal chair. He then said: "Terrible! Terrible!" and turned his attention to the desk.
There was nothing amongst the papers discovered in it to give the slightest indication of who might have killed Mrs. Haddington, or from what source she had derived the greater part of her income. She had never consulted her solicitors on the disposal of her property; Mr.. Eddleston only knew that she was a woman of considerable substance. Pressed, he admitted that he had had reason, during the past years, to assume that her investments had been fortunate; but he was ignorant of the sum bequeathed to her by her husband, a gentleman whose affairs he had not handled. He disclosed to Hemingway that her Will was a very simple document: she had left everything of which she died possessed to her daughter. Until the Will was proved, her trustees, of whom he was one, could not know the size of her estate.
The desk contained such oddments as a ball of string, a pair of large scissors in a leather case, paper clips, visiting-cards, and wrapping-paper. The only documents of possible interest were some Bank Pass-sheets, and an investment book. A cursory glance at this yielded little information, beyond the bare fact that Mrs. Haddington's investments had been many, and, apparently, sound. The Pass-sheets showed a small over-draft: it was plain that Mrs. Haddington had been living for some time rather beyond her very large income.
This was shown to be much too large in an epoch when not the largest fortune was permitted to yield its owner more than five thousand pounds yearly, nor did the entries on the credit side bear any relation to certain outgoing sums made payable to the Commissioners of Inland Revenue. This discrepancy was accounted for by the frequent occurrence of the word Cash against some of the sums received. Mr.. Eddleston, peering at these, looked faintly revolted, but said, removing his pince-nez from his nose and polishing the lenses with his handkerchief: "It is regrettable, Chief Inspector, but, I fear, inevitable under our present system of taxation, that more and more people are being forced to evade excessive taxation by employing shifts they would not, I venture to state, have stooped even to contemplate ten years ago."
"It might be that, of course," Hemingway said, shutting the leather folder which contained the Pass-sheets. "I shall want this, sir."
"Certainly," said Mr.. Eddleston. "You are, of course, entitled to retain whatever you wish."
"There's nothing else I want here, thank you, sir. She doesn't seem to have kept many papers. We may find some more in her bedroom."
When they left the boudoir, they found Miss Pickhill hovering outside the drawing-room, on the landing above. She eyed them with some hostility, and informed young Mr.. Eddleston that she was bound to say she was surprised at his conduct. He very unwisely tried to explain the difficulties of his position to her. Before he had in any way convinced her either that he was powerless to prevent the police from searching her sister's house or that his father would have acted otherwise, a further interruption occurred. Thrimby came up the stairs, bearing, on a silver salver, a large, square-cut emerald, set in diamond claws on a platinum bar. This he presented to Hemingway, saying: "Madam's brooch, Chief Inspector, which she lost yesterday afternoon, and asked to have carefully looked-for. I fancy the safetycatch is defective, for it was found slipped down the side of one of the armchairs in the drawing-room. I thought it best, sir," he added, staring over Miss Pickhill's head, "to give it into your charge."