Colonel Melton looked at Earle, and Craythorne, who took a document from a drawer, passed it to Appleby.
“Then you will be astonished to hear that the personal estate scheduled here was bequeathed to you?”
“I certainly am. I am also not sure that Tony had exactly the right to leave this property to me. Traditionally, and, I think, ethically, it belongs to the estate, and should revert to Esmond Palliser.”
Colonel Melton appeared a trifle astonished, but Craythorne smiled dryly. “That is also Esmond Palliser’s opinion, and he informed me that he intends to act upon it.”
“He is, of course, at liberty”; and Appleby showed a trace of impatience. “His intentions do not, however, in the least concern me. Now, gentlemen, I have come here to tell you of my comrade’s death, and I have another appointment to keep this evening.”
Melton glanced at Craythorne, who nodded. “We will ask you to be as explicit as you can,” he said.
Appleby spoke for rather more than ten minutes, and when he came to the assault upon Santa Marta it was evident that Colonel Melton was listening with eager interest. He turned to Appleby abruptly with a trace of embarrassment.
“I knew your father, Mr. Appleby,” he said. “In fact, I once offended Godfrey Palliser by expressing my opinion of the fashion in which he treated him, and now I can only hope you will excuse the attitude I thought necessary when you came in. You did a thing not many drilled troops would have accomplished. A frontal attack in daylight, with a coverless strip to cross! They would have swept you out of existence with shrapnel.”
“They hadn’t any”; and Appleby laughed.
“Still, they had two quick-firers, and your attack was directed at one narrow entrance,” said Melton. “Now—”