Mr. Trigg was a pleasant, fresh-faced man in his early forties. He begged Mr. Parker to be seated and asked what he could do for him.

For the thirty-seventh time, Parker started on the opening gambit which he had devised to suit his purpose.

“I am only temporarily in London, Mr. Trigg, and finding I needed legal advice. I was recommended to you by a man in a restaurant. He did give me his name but it has escaped me, and anyway, it’s of no great importance, is it? The point is this. My wife and I have come up to see her great-aunt, who is in a very bad way. In fact, she isn’t expected to live.

“Well, now, the old lady has been very fond of my wife, don’t you see? and it has always been an understood thing that Mrs. Parker was to come into her money when she died. It’s quite a tidy bit, and we have been- I won’t say looking forward to it, but in a kind of mild way counting on it as something for us to retire upon later on. You understand. There aren’t any other relations at all, so though the old lady has often talked about making a will, we didn’t worry much, one way or the other, because we took it for granted my wife would come in for anything there was. But we were talking to a friend yesterday, and he took us rather aback by saying that there was a new law or something, and that if my a wife’s great-aunt hadn’t made a will we shouldn’t get anything at all. I think he said it would all go to the Crown. I didn’t think that could be right and told him so, but my wife is a bit nervous- there are the children to be considered, you see- and she urged me to get legal advice, because her great-aunt may go off at any minute and we don’t know whether there is a will or not. Now, how does a great-niece stand under the new arrangements?

“The point has not been made very clear,” said Mr. Trigg, “but my advice to you is to find out whether a will has been made, and if not, to get one made without delay if the testatrix is capable of making one. Otherwise I think there is a very real danger of your wife’s losing her inheritance.”

“You seem quite familiar with the question,” said Parker, with a smile; “I suppose you are always being asked it since this new Act came in?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘always.’ It is comparatively rare for a great-niece to be left as sole next-of-kin.”

“Is it? Well, yes, I should think it must be. Do you remember being asked that question in the summer of 1925, Mr. Trigg?”

A most curious expression came over the solicitor’s face- it looked almost like alarm.

“What makes you ask that?”

“You need have no hesitation in answering,” said Parker, taking out his official card. “I am a police officer and have a good reason for asking. I put the legal point to you first as a problem of my own, because I was anxious to have your professional opinion first.”

“I see. Well, Inspector, in that case I suppose I am justified in telling you all about it. I was asked that question in June, 1925.”

“Do you remember the circumstances?”

“Clearly. I am not likely to forget them- or rather, the sequel to them.”

“That sounds interesting. Will you tell the story in your own way and with all the detail you can remember?”

“Certainly. Just a moment.” Mr. Trigg put his head out into the outer office. “Badcock, I am engaged with Mr. Parker and can’t see anybody. Now, Mr. Parker, I am at your service. Won’t you smoke?”

Parker accepted the invitation and lit up his well-worn briar, while Mr. Trigg, rapidly smoking cigarette after cigarette, unfolded his remarkable story.

Chapter 18 The London Lawyer’s Story

I think,” said Mr. Trigg, “that it was on the 15th or 16th June, 1925, that a lady called to ask almost exactly the same question that you have done- only that she represented herself as inquiring on behalf of a friend whose name she did not mention. Yes- I think I can describe her pretty well. She was tall and handsome, with a very clear skin, dark hair and blue eyes- an attractive girl. I remember that she had very fine brows, rather straight, and not much colour in her face, and she was dressed in something summery but very neat. I should think it would be called an embroidered linen dress- I am not an expert on those things- and a shady white hat of panama straw.”

“Your recollection seems very clear,” said Parker.

“I have rather a good memory; besides, I saw her on other occasions, as you shall hear.

“At this first visit she told me- much as you did- that she was only temporarily in Town, and had been casually recommended to me. I told her I should not like to answer her question off-hand. The Act, you may remember, had only recently passed its Final Reading, and I was by no means up in it. Besides, from just skimming through it, I had convinced myself that various important questions were bound to crop up.

“I told the lady- Miss Grant was the name she gave, by the way- that I should like to take counsel’s opinion before giving her any advice, and asked if she could call again the following day. She said she could, rose and thanked me, offering her hand. In taking it, I happened to notice rather an odd scar, running across the backs of all the fingers- rather as though a chisel or something had slipped at some time. I noticed it quite idly, of course, but it was lucky for me I did.

“Miss Grant duly turned up the next day. I had looked up a very learned friend in the interval, and gave her the same opinion that I gave you just now. She looked rather concerned about it- in fact, almost more annoyed than concerned.

“ ‘It seems rather unfair,’ she said; ‘that people’s family money should go away to the Crown like that. After all, a great-niece is quite a near relation, really.’

“I replied that, provided the great-niece could call witnesses to prove deceased had always had the intention of leaving her the money, the Crown would, in all probability, allot the estate or a suitable portion of it, in accordance with the wishes of the deceased. It would, however, lie entirely within the discretion of the court to do so or not, and, of course, if there had been any quarrel or dispute about the matter at any time, the judge might take an unfavourable view of the great-niece’s application.

“‘In any case,’ I added, ‘I don’t know that the great-niece is excluded under the Act- I only understand that she may be. In any case, there are still six months before the Act comes into force, and many things may happen before then.’

‘You mean that Auntie may die,’ she said, ‘But she’s not really dangerously ill- only mental, as Nurse calls it.’

“Anyhow, she went away then after paying my fee, and I noticed that the ‘friend’s great-aunt’ had suddenly become ‘Auntie,’ and decided that my client felt a certain personal interest in the matter.”

“I fancy she had,” said Parker. “When did you see her again?”

“Oddly enough, I ran across her in the following December. I was having a quick and early dinner in Soho, before going on to a show. The little place I usually patronise was very full, and I had to sit at a table where a woman was already seated. As I muttered the usual formula about ‘Was anybody sitting there,’ she looked up, and I promptly recognized my client.

“‘Why, how do you do, Miss Grant?” I said.

“‘I beg your pardon,’ she replied, rather stiffly. ‘I think you are mistaken.’

“ ‘I beg your pardon,’ said I, stiffer still, ‘my name is Trigg, and you came to consult me in Bedford Row last June. But if I am intruding, I apologise and withdraw.’”