The woman sprang up from her chair, and leant over Stothert’s shoulder to read the startling announcement. It was contained in two lines in the stop press. No reason for the exhumation was given or hinted at.
“Alix, that will discomfort our friend,” she said with a grin. “And Jessica and Stapleton too. I wonder who brought that about.”
“That Doctor Johnson, you may depend. He was much upset, as I told you, at his opinion at the inquest being turned down by the coroner. This may have an interesting sequel, not calculated to set Jessica’s mind at rest.”
“And may strengthen Preston’s hand. I believe that, all along, he and Blenkiron have suspected La Planta.”
They went on talking about the exhumation and what it might eventually lead to, until the whistle of the speaking tube interrupted them once more. After answering it Stothert pressed a button in the wall, and waited. A minute later the door of the room opened and a woman entered.
Young and very pretty, she was dressed apparently for a ball or a reception. She shut the door after her, then without ceremony went over and sat down in a big arm-chair near the two occupants of the room, neither of whom had risen or greeted her when she entered.
“What do you want?” she asked curtly, addressing Stothert.
“We want you to find out as soon as possible, to-night if you can, where Mrs. Timothy Macmahon is now, the woman to whom Lord Froissart left his fortune which should have been inherited by his elder daughter, Mrs. Ferdinand Westrup. When last we heard of Mrs. Macmahon she still resided in Cashel, County Tipperary. Where are you going to-night?”
“To a reception in Berkeley Square,” and she mentioned the name of her hostess. “You have put me to great inconvenience by making me come here at this hour.”
Stothert shrugged his shoulders.