Smallbone Deceased

“None that I can trace,” said Mr. Hoffman. “Most of the entries in his account are self-explanatory. There is his share of the firm’s profits coming in, and regular payments out for housekeeping, tradesmen, club subscriptions and so forth. It’s all done very methodically. There is a quarterly payment out of £48 2s. 6d, for which I can see no immediate explanation. It may have been an insurance premium.”

It was not for him to comment or speculate. He was interested only in facts. Figures were facts. And facts, if handled aright, could be considered as so many figures. They could be grouped and set in proportion; they could be added together or subtracted from each other. And someone would doubtless say what the result signified. But not Mr. Hoffman.

“I’ll be quite blunt with you,” said Hazlerigg. “I want to know if Abel Horniman had been embezzling money from clients. Our first idea, as you know, was that he might have been embezzling from a certain trust—the Ichabod Stokes Trust. If that trust proves to be all right, then I want equally to know about all the others. All the trusts of which Abel was trustee and the estates of which he was executor. Any place where he may have dipped his fingers into money which did not belong to him.”

“The present system of solicitors’ accounting,” said Mr. Hoffman, “was designed to prevent that sort of fraud, or if it could not prevent it, then to bring it easily to light. I can assure you that if any such irregularity exists I shall very shortly know about it.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Hazlerigg. “But don’t forget—Abel Horniman was a very good lawyer. He was also a methodical and painstaking man.”

Mr. Hoffman said nothing. He himself was exceedingly methodical and infinitely painstaking. It was not his place to say so.

As he was going a thought occurred to the chief inspector. “That farm that Abel had. You said it was in Kent. It hadn’t got a name like Stanston or Stancomb?”

“Not that I know of,” said Mr. Hoffman. “As I recollect the name, it was something like Crookham—Crookham Court Farm, I think. I’ll check it up for you.”

“Don’t trouble,” said Hazlerigg. “It was just a passing thought.”

VI

“I couldn’t help noticing,” said Eric Duxford to Bohun, “that the chief inspector confides a good deal in you. I understand that you knew him previously.”

“He is the friend of a friend,” said Bohun cautiously.

“Ah, yes.” Eric on-offed his smile briefly. “It must be very nice to have a friend at court.”

Bohun was not unduly upset by this innuendo. He was too busy speculating on what might lie behind the approach. Nor was he kept long in doubt.

“If I was the inspector,” said Eric, “there’s one person I should keep a very careful eye on, and that’s John Cove.” He leaned a bit closer and added: “I suppose you know that he was expelled from his public school for dishonesty.”

“As a matter of fact, I believe he did mention it,” said Bohun. “I didn’t take him very seriously though. Even if it is true,” he added mildly, “I can’t think that it forms a very firm ground for suspecting him of murder.”

“Once a bounder, always a bounder,” said Eric.

“Well, I’ll pass it on to the inspector.”

“I thought you’d like to know.”

VII

“Are you off?” said John Cove.

“I think so,” said Bohun. “It’s been quite a week, hasn’t it?”

“Never a dull moment,” said John. “I say—you seem very pally with that copper.”

“Er—yes. Yes. He’s a friend of a friend of mine.”

“Good,” said John. “Well, you can pass this on from me. If he really wants to lay his hands on the murderer, he can’t do better than watch our Eric.”

“Eric Duxford?”

“That’s the chap. Oleaginous Eric, the only man who has been to more public schools than the Western Brothers.”

“What makes you say that—not about the public schools, I mean about the murder?”

“Well,” said John. “I admit it’s not much to go on, but you can take it from me that he’s a slippery customer. When he used to share this room with me he was always sliding out somewhere, and saying to me, ‘If anyone asks where I am, tell them I’m at the Law Society,’ or ‘Tell them I’m examining deeds in the City.’ He’d always have the excuse cut and dried. Well, that’s fair enough in a way, and I expect I shall ask you to alibi me if I want to get off early or push out and have some coffee or something. But Eric was always doing it. I got quite browned off telling lies for him. And another thing, I believe he fiddled the petty cash—”

“Even so,” said Bohun, “that’s a long way from murder.”

“Once a cad, always a cad,” said John.

“Well,” said Bohun, “I’ll pass it along to Inspector Hazlerigg.”

“That’s the stuff,” said John. “After all, even if we don’t get him for murder, we may catch him for embezzlement. Well, if you’re coming my way, I’ll walk across with you.”

They were putting on their coats when John said: “Just a second, whilst I warn Mrs. Porter. She’s on with me tomorrow.”

“What do you mean, ‘on’?” said Bohun. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”