“It's simple enough, sir. He's been borrowing money on a scale that would be quite big for his resources. And I gather from some of the entries that he had no security that he could produce. It seems he daren't go to his uncle and ask him to use his capital as security—I mean young Hassendean's own capital which was under his uncle's control as trustee. So he was persuaded to insure his life in favour of his creditor for a good round sum—figure not mentioned.”
“So in the present circumstances the moneylender will rake in the whole sum insured, after paying only a single premium?”
“Unless the insurance company can prove suicide.”
Sir Clinton closed the last volume of the journal.
“I've heard of that sort of insurance racket before. And of course you remember that shooting affair in Scotland thirty years ago when the prosecution made a strong point out of just this very type of transaction. Have you had time to make any inquiries along that line yet?”
Flamborough was evidently glad to get the opportunity of showing his efficiency.
“I took it up at once, sir. In one entry, he mentioned the name of the company: the Western Medical and Mercantile Assurance Co. I put a trunk call through to their head office and got the particulars of the policy. It's for £5,000 and it's in favour of Dudley Amyas Guisborough & Co.—the moneylender.”
“Sounds very aristocratic,” the Chief Constable commented.
“Oh, that's only his trade sign. His real name's Spratton.”
“No claim been made yet?”