And this refined, soft-spoken, elegant woman had spent some months in prison! It seemed utterly incredible.
Like Shaw, she seemed extremely anxious to know if I were aware whether Arnold had made a will. But I told her that, so far as I knew, there was none, and, further, I was unaware of the name of his lawyer.
“I fear that Mr Arnold had no solicitors,” she said. “He would not trust them.”
“Then who is in charge of the dead man’s estate?” I asked, hoping for some information.
“Ah! That’s a complete mystery, Mr Kemball,” was her reply. “That Mr Arnold was wealthy—tremendously wealthy—there is no doubt. Yet he was as mysterious himself as was the source of his enormous income. It was derived in the East somewhere, but of its true source even the Commissioners of Income Tax are unaware.”
“He was a complete mystery in many ways.”
“In every way. I was one of his most intimate friends, but I confess that I was most puzzled always. He lived in secret, and it appears that he has died in secret,” replied Mrs Olliffe. “I had hoped, Mr Kemball, that you could perhaps throw some light upon the manner in which he has disposed of his property.”
“Unfortunately, I know nothing,” was my reply. “He merely asked me to perform several little services for him after his death; and having done them, there my knowledge ends.”
She looked me steadily in the face for a few moments with her shrewd, deep-sunken eyes, and then with a smile said—
“I expect you think that I am hoping to benefit under his will. But, on the contrary, I know full well that I should not. All I can tell you, Mr Kemball, is that if you have accepted any trust of Melvill Arnold’s, then only evil can result.”