“Seen him—where?”
“At the inquest. Didn’t you notice a rather seedy little fellow, with a face like a rat, who was standing about in the porch just when it was over? That’s your man; Simmonds his name is, and if you want to get a taste of his quality, nothing’s easier, for he serves in his own shop. On a plea of braces trouble, shortage of cough lozenges, or what you will, his time is yours from ten in the morning to seven at night.”
“Yes, I noticed the little man. I can’t say I was prepossessed. But I must certainly improve the acquaintance. I suppose it’s not fair to ask what you make of him?”
“Oh, personally, I can’t say I’ve made much of him. I had a talk, and his manner and statements seemed to be perfectly straightforward. No nervousness, no embarrassment.”
“There’s one other thing about Mottram’s will that’s clearly important. You got it, I gather, from the solicitors; did you find out from them whether the terms of it were made public in any way?”
“About the main will they thought there was no secret. Mottram seems to have talked it over with members of the Pullford Town Council. Also the lawyers were directed to send a full statement of it to young Simmonds, as a kind of rebuke; Simmonds, you see, had annoyed Mottram at the time. But this codicil was a different affair; it was extremely confidential. Brinkman himself—though of course he may have been lying, or being discreet—professed ignorance of it. I should think it very improbable that anybody knows about it yet, except you and me and Mrs. Bredon and of course the lawyers themselves.”
“Then there’s a chance, I suppose, that Simmonds thought, and still thinks, he is coming in for a windfall from our company? Or do you think he didn’t know Mottram was insured?”
“He must have; because the Euthanasia policy was explicitly mentioned in the earlier will, the one which was cancelled. So you are not the only person who’s interested in young Simmonds. Well, what do you make of it all?”
“Let me tell you one thing; it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t. About three weeks ago Mottram had an argument with the Bishop of Pullford on a matter of theology. Mottram was trying to persuade the Bishop that you were morally justified in doing evil in order that good might come of it.”
“I’m very much obliged for the information, old man, but I’m not much interested in these speculative questions. I’m concerned to hunt out the people who do evil, whether good comes of it or not.”