G. D. H. Cole · Chapter 6 (2/2)

“Had Miss Cowper, so far as you know, any other attachment?”

“That is a difficult question. She is very thick with Robert Ellery, the young playwright, you know; but whether she is in love with him is more than I can tell you. He is obviously in love with her. It was the common talk, and everybody, knew about it except Sir Vernon.”

“This Mr. Ellery⁠—can you tell me anything about him? He was at the dinner, was he not?”

“Yes, he’s a ward of old Mr. Lucas, one of Sir Vernon’s oldest friends. A good deal about with Joan, and a frequent visitor at Sir Vernon’s country place. A nice enough fellow, so far as I have seen.”

“Was he on good terms with Mr. Prinsep?”

“Prinsep did not like his going about with Joan, I think. Otherwise, they seemed to get on all right.”

“Now, Mr. Woodman, I want to ask you a somewhat difficult question. I should, of course, ask Sir Vernon himself, if he were well enough. You know, presumably, the terms of Sir Vernon’s will. Do you feel at liberty to tell me about its contents? They might throw some light on the question of motive.”

The lawyer thought a moment. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you the whole thing⁠—in confidence,” he said. “Sir Vernon told them all that night what was in his will, and you certainly ought to know about it. The greater part of his property was to be divided at his death between his two nephews, who have now unhappily predeceased him.”

“Yes, and in the event of the death of either or both of the nephews, what was to happen?”

“If Mr. George Brooklyn died, half of his share was to go to Mrs. George and half to Prinsep. If Prinsep died, half of his share was to go to Miss Joan Cowper. Sir Vernon explained that his arrangements were based on her marrying Prinsep.”

“Then, under the will, Miss Cowper now gets half Mr. Prinsep’s share. Does she get half Mr. George’s share also?”

“No, a part of it goes to Mrs. George, and the remainder in both cases to the next of kin.”

“I see. And who is the next of kin.”

“Joan’s stepfather, Mr. Walter Brooklyn.”

“Ah! I think you mentioned that Mr. Walter Brooklyn was on bad terms with Mr. Prinsep.”

“Walter Brooklyn was on bad terms with most people who knew him. His stepdaughter left him after her mother’s death, and came to live with Sir Vernon. I am afraid Walter Brooklyn is not a very likeable person.”

“On what terms was he with Sir Vernon?”

“He was always trying to get money from him. He had ran through one big fortune, his wife’s⁠—including all the money left in trust for Miss Cowper. He leads a fairly expensive life in town, supported, I understand, partly by his bridge earnings and partly on what he can raise from his friends.”

“Did Sir Vernon give him money?”

“Yes, far more than I thought desirable. But Sir Vernon had a very strong sense of family solidarity. Latterly, however, Walter Brooklyn’s demands had become so exorbitant that Sir Vernon had been refusing to see him, and had handed the matter over to Prinsep, whom Walter was finding a much more difficult man to deal with.”

“Do you know whether Prinsep had been seeing Mr. Walter Brooklyn lately?”

“Yes; I know he saw him the day before the murder. Walter was always after money. He’ll probably begin sponging on Miss Cowper in a day or two.”

“You certainly do not give Mr. Walter Brooklyn a good character.”

“No; but I think everyone you ask will confirm my estimate.”

“I will look into that. Now, are there any other particulars in the will I ought to know about? I should like to know approximately what Sir Vernon is worth.”

“Not far short of a million.”

“You don’t say so. Then anyone interested in his will had a great deal at stake. Are any others interested besides those you have mentioned?”

“There are a number of smaller legacies. Miss Cowper was left £40,000. My sister, Miss Mary Woodman, and I are left £20,000 each. The rest are quite small legacies.”

“I think that is almost all I need ask you. But is there any other particular you think might help me in my inquiry?”

“As to that, I cannot say; but there are two points I have been intending to mention. The first is that I know Mr. Walter Brooklyn called at Liskeard House a few minutes after ten on the night of the murder. My wife and I saw him go up to the porch and ring the bell just after we had come out of the house.”

“This is very important. Do you know anything more?”

“No, it was merely a chance that I noticed him and pointed him out to my wife. Mr. and Mrs. George may also have seen him. They were with us. He went into the hall. That is all I can tell you.”

“Where did you go when you left the house?”

“Straight back to the hotel where I was staying. I did not go out again that night. I heard nothing about the tragedy till they rang me up about it at my office the next morning.”

“Who rang you up?”

“One of the servants at Liskeard House. I do not know which it was.”

“And what was the other point you wished to mention?”

“Only that I know Mr. Walter Brooklyn was in exceptional financial difficulties, and had been trying in vain to raise a loan. This has happened very opportunely for him.”

“But, of course, Sir Vernon may alter his will.”

“If he recovers enough to do so, he may. But I doubt if he will. He always told me that he could not bear the thought of leaving money out of the family. And much as he disapproves of Walter Brooklyn, he is still attached to him.”

“H’m. Well, thank you very much, Mr. Woodman. What you have told me has been very helpful. Perhaps I will call again and tell you what success I meet with in following it up. I may, of course, have more to ask you later.”

The inspector rose and Woodman gave him his hand. He went out of the office with his hand tingling.

“Certainly a man who impresses himself upon one,” said he, laughing softly to himself. “And what he had to say was most enlightening.”