She frowned, then smiled, and Trenholm decided that a fiery temper was kept under iron control. “My husband has gone to employ a celebrated detective agency to solve the mystery,” she stated. “I thought that you should know and so sent for you.”
“Thank you,” simply, and settling himself more comfortably in the big chair Trenholm awaited her next remark.
“You are not exactly loquacious,” she commented dryly. “Have you been told the terms of Paul Abbott’s will?”
“Yes. Your niece will inherit a very handsome fortune.”
“Provided she remains single the rest of her natural life.” Mrs. Nash’s laugh smote unpleasantly on his ear. “Betty is so very young—not yet out of her twenties. Does wealth compensate, Mr. Trenholm, for a lonely old age?”
“To some natures it does.” Trenholm’s voice was softly modulated to suit a sick room, and Mrs. Nash had to listen attentively to catch every word he said. “It seems a pity that Paul and Miss Carter were not married before his death.”
Mrs. Nash’s eyelids flickered slightly; otherwise she regarded him with unchanged expression. “It is a pity,” she agreed, “in a way. But I have no doubt that certain terms in Paul’s ridiculous will can be set aside.”
“Ah, on what grounds?”
“That he was not of sound mind when it was drawn up,” quietly. “In view of the mystery surrounding Paul’s shocking murder, Mr. Trenholm, I feel that you should be informed on certain matters.”
“And what are they, Mrs. Nash?” as she paused. Trenholm was giving her flattering attention and she smiled shrewdly.