"Oh no, it doesn't!" replied Hemingway. "Miss Cliffe doesn't get Aunt Clara's fortune, by what Mr. Dering tells me, and as he's a Chancery barrister I wouldn't be surprised if he knew what he was talking about."
"Well, I know that, sir, but she didn't, did she?"
"No, she didn't, but that isn't to say that others were as ignorant. What I want to know is who the old lady's heir is, now that Carter's been disposed of. Get me Miss Cliffe on the 'phone, will you?"
The Sergeant found the number in the directory, and picked up the receiver. "But, good Lord, sir, that's very likely bringing in someone we've never even heard of!" he said.
"Well, why not?" demanded Hemingway. "I don't know about you, but I'm sick and tired of this lot, for there isn't a penny to choose between any of them!"
The Sergeant told the Telephone Exchange the number he wanted, and tried to put his jostling thoughts into words. "Yes, sir, I know; but if we go and dig out some stranger I don't see how he could have known what Carter's movements were, or Hallo, is that Mrs. Carter's residence? Inspector Hemingway would like to speak to Miss Cliffe, please."
Chapter Fifteen
Mary, rather bewildered at the other end of the wire, was unable to tell the Inspector very much, but although she had no idea of the exact locality of the Home which housed Clara Carter, she did remember that it was situated in an opulent suburb of London. The Inspector noted down this somewhat vague address, and asked her if she happened to know who managed Miss Carter's affairs. No, she had never heard, but she thought the old lady must have some trustees - if she actually existed.
"What, is there any doubt about that?" demanded Hemingway.
"I don't know. I mean, I've never set eyes on her, and I never heard of my cousin's going to see her, or anything. He only talked about inheriting her money, and being rich one day, whenever he got into debt, or wanted to get money out of Mrs. Carter, so he may have made her up."