“Who are the lawyers who wrote to you?” something prompted me to ask.
“You mean about the will? Oh, a firm in Lincoln’s Inn, Spink and Peters.”
Instantly I thought of old Taylor.
“Ah,” I said, “I have heard of them. Thorold has had some business dealings with them. By the way—who opened the safe?”
“The French police. It seems, that since the fire, neither Dago Paulton nor the Baronne de Coudron have shown any signs of life. Even the insurance people have not been written to by them.”
“Paulton and the Baronne are probably afraid of being arrested,” I said at once.
We talked a little longer, but Faulkner seemed unable to throw any further light on the mystery of the will being found in the safe, and the lawyers were equally in the dark. Probably they would never have heard of the will had the French police not communicated with them.
“Oh, I have another bit of news for you,” Faulkner said suddenly. “Sir Charles Thorold is to return to Houghton.”
“My father going back to Houghton!” Vera exclaimed, amazed. “Why, who told you that? I’ve heard nothing of it.”
“Read it in the newspaper this morning,” Faulkner answered. “I have the paper here—in my pocket.”