The Sittaford Mystery. Agatha Christie

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      ‘Signed by the above names Testator as his last will in the presence of us both present at the same time, who in his presence and at his request and in the presence of each other have hereunto subscribed our names as witness.’

      Mr Kirkwood handed the document to the Inspector.

      ‘Witnessed by two of my clerks in this office.’

      The Inspector ran his eye over the will thoughtfully.

      ‘My deceased sister, Mary Pearson,’ he said. ‘Can you tell me anything about Mrs Pearson, Mr Kirkwood?’

      ‘Very little. She died about ten years ago, I believe. Her husband, a stockbroker, had predeceased her. As far as I know, she never visited Captain Trevelyan here.’

      ‘Pearson,’ said the Inspector again. Then he added: ‘One thing more. The amount of Captain Trevelyan’s estate is not mentioned. To what sum do you think it will amount?’

      ‘That is difficult to say exactly,’ said Mr Kirkwood, enjoying, like all lawyers, making the reply to a simple question difficult. ‘It is a question of real or personal estate. Besides Sittaford House, Captain Trevelyan owns some property in the neighbourhood of Plymouth, and various investments he made from time to time have fluctuated in value.’

      ‘I just want an approximate idea,’ said Inspector Narracott.

      ‘I should not like to commit myself—’

      ‘Just the roughest estimate as a guide. For instance would twenty thousand pounds be out of the way?’

      ‘Twenty thousand pounds. My dear sir! Captain Trevelyan’s estate will be worth at least four times as much as that. Eighty or even ninety thousand pounds will be much nearer the mark.’

      ‘I told you Trevelyan was a rich man,’ said Burnaby.

      Inspector Narracott rose.

      ‘Thank you very much, Mr Kirkwood,’ he said, ‘for the information you have given me.’

      ‘You think you will find it helpful, eh?’

      The lawyer very clearly was agog with curiosity, but Inspector Narracott was in no mood to satisfy it at present.

      ‘In a case like this we have to take everything into account,’ he said, noncommittally. ‘By the way, have you the names and addresses of this Jennifer Gardner and of the Pearson family?’

      ‘I know nothing of the Pearson family. Mrs Gardner’s address is The Laurels, Waldon Road, Exeter.’

      The Inspector noted it down in his book.

      ‘That will do to get on with,’ he said. ‘You don’t know how many children the late Mrs Pearson left?’

      ‘Three, I fancy. Two girls and a boy—or possibly two boys and a girl—I cannot remember which.’

      The Inspector nodded and put away his notebook and thanked the lawyer once more and took his departure.

      When they had reached the street, he turned suddenly and faced his companion.

      ‘And now, sir,’ he said, ‘we’ll have the truth about the twenty-five past five business.’

      Major Burnaby’s face reddened with annoyance.

      ‘I have told you already—’

      ‘That won’t go down with me. Withholding information, that is what you are doing, Major Burnaby. You must have had some idea in mentioning that specific time to Dr Warren—and I think I have a very good idea of what that something is.’

      ‘Well, if you know about it, why ask me?’ growled the Major.

      ‘I take it that you were aware that a certain person had an appointment with Captain Trevelyan somewhere about that time. Now, isn’t that so?’

      Major Burnaby stared at him in surprise.

      ‘Nothing of the kind,’ he snarled, ‘nothing of the kind.’

      ‘Be careful, Major Burnaby. What about Mr James Pearson?’

      ‘James Pearson? James Pearson, who’s he? Do you mean one of Trevelyan’s nephews?’

      ‘I presume it would be a nephew. He had one called James, hadn’t he?’

      ‘Not the least idea. Trevelyan had nephews—I know that. But what their names were, I haven’t the vaguest idea.’

      ‘The young man in question was at the Three Crowns last night. You probably recognized him there.’

      ‘I didn’t recognize anybody,’ growled the Major. ‘Shouldn’t anyway—never saw any of Trevelyan’s nephews in my life.’

      ‘But you knew that Captain Trevelyan was expecting a nephew to call upon him yesterday afternoon?’

      ‘I did not,’ roared the Major.

      Several people in the street turned round to stare at him.

      ‘Damn it, won’t you take plain truth! I knew nothing about any appointment. Trevelyan’s nephews may have been in Timbuctoo for all I knew about them.’

      Inspector Narracott was a little taken aback. The Major’s vehement denial bore the mark of truth too plainly for him to be deceived.

      ‘Then why this twenty-five past five business?’

      ‘Oh! well—I suppose I had better tell you,’ the Major coughed in an embarrassed fashion. ‘But mind you—the whole thing is damned foolishness! Tommy rot, sir. How any thinking man can believe such nonsense!’

      Inspector Narracott looked more and more surprised. Major Burnaby was looking more uncomfortable and ashamed of himself every minute.

      ‘You know what it is, Inspector. You have to join in these things to please a lady. Of course, I never thought there was anything in it.’

      ‘In what, Major Burnaby?’

      ‘Table-turning.’

      ‘Table-turning?’

      Whatever Narracott had expected he had not expected this. The Major proceeded to explain himself. Haltingly, and with many disclaimers of his own belief in the thing, he described the events of the previous afternoon and the message that had purported to come through for himself.

      ‘You mean, Major Burnaby, that the table spelt out the name of Trevelyan and informed you that he was dead—murdered?’

      Major Burnaby wiped his forehead.

      ‘Yes, that’s what happened. I didn’t believe in it—naturally, I didn’t believe in it.’ He looked ashamed. ‘Well—it was Friday and I thought after all I would make sure and go along and see if everything was all right.’

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