Strong Poison · Chapter 14 (2/2)

Thank you very much, my dear boy, for your birthday letter and the pretty scarf. It is good of you to remember your old aunt so faithfully.

It has occurred to me that, now that I am over eighty years old, it is time that I put my business into your hands entirely. You and your father have managed very well for me all these years, and you have, of course, always very properly consulted me before taking any step with regard to investments. But I am getting such a very old woman now that I am quite out of touch with the modern world, and I cannot pretend that my opinions are of any real value. I am a tired old woman, too, and though you always explain everything most clearly, I find the writing of letters a gêne and a burden to me at my advanced age.

So I have determined to put my property in Trust with you for my lifetime, so that you may have full power to handle everything according to your own discretion, without having to consult me every time. And also, though I am strong and healthy yet, I am glad to say, and have my wits quite about me, still, that happy state of things might alter at any time. I might become paralysed or feeble in my head, or want to make some foolish use of my money, as silly old women have done before now.

So will you draw up a deed of this kind and bring it to me and I will sign it. And at the same time I will give you instructions about my will.

“Hurray!” said Miss Murchison, “There was a will, then! And this Trust⁠—that’s probably important, too.”

She read the letter again, skimmed through the clauses of the Trust, taking particular notice that Norman Urquhart was named as sole Trustee, and finally made a mental note of some of the larger and more important items in the list of securities. Then she replaced the documents in their original order, relocked the box⁠—which yielded to treatment like an angel⁠—carried it out, replaced it, piled the other boxes above it, and was back at her machine, just as Mrs. Hodges reentered the office.

“Just finished, Mrs. Hodges,” she called out cheerfully.

“I wondered if yer would be,” said Mrs. Hodges, “I didn’t hear the typewriter a-going.”

“I was making notes by hand,” said Miss Murchison. She crumpled together the spoiled front page of the affidavit and threw it into the wastepaper basket together with the retype which she had begun. From her desk drawer she produced a correctly typed first page, provided beforehand for the purpose, added it to the bundle of script, put the top copy and the required sets of flimsies into an envelope, sealed it, addressed it to Messrs. Hanson & Hanson, put on her hat and coat and went out, bidding a pleasant farewell to Mrs. Hodges at the door.

A short walk brought her to Messrs. Hansons’ office, where she delivered the affidavit through the letter box. Then, with a brisk step and humming to herself, she made for the bus stop at the junction of Theobald’s Road and Gray’s Inn Road.

“I think I deserve a little supper in Soho,” said Miss Murchison.

She was humming again as she walked from Cambridge Circus into Frith Street. “What is this beastly tune?” she asked herself abruptly. A little consideration reminded her that it was “Sweeping through the gates, Sweeping through the gates⁠ ⁠…”

“Bless me!” said Miss Murchison. “Going dotty, that’s what I am.”