At Bertram's Hotel by Agatha Christie Page B

you can't always get your hands on it. The funny thing is, you know, they keep heiresses much shorter of cash than they keep the more impecunious. It's not always a good idea. Well, I don't suppose we shall ever know the truth of it.”
    He put the bracelet back in its place in the display case and shut down the lid.

At Bertram's Hotel

Chapter 10
    The offices of Egerton, Forbes and Wilborough were in Bloomsbury, in one of those imposing and dignified squares which have as yet not felt the wind of change. Their brass plate was suitably worn down to illegibility. The firm had been going for over a hundred years and a good proportion of the landed gentry of England were their clients. There was no Forbes in the firm any more and no Wilboroughs. Instead there were Atkinsons, father and son, and a Welsh Lloyd and a Scottish MacAllister. There was, however, still an Egerton, descendant of the original Egerton. This particular Egerton was a man of fifty-two and he was adviser to several families which had in their day been advised by his grandfather, his uncle, and his father.
    At this moment he was sitting behind a large mahogany desk in his handsome room on the first floor, speaking kindly but firmly to a dejected-looking client. Richard Egerton was a handsome man, tall, dark with a touch of grey at the temples and very shrewd grey eyes. His advice was always good advice, but he seldom minced his words.
    “Quite frankly you haven't got a leg to stand upon, Freddie,” he was saying. “Not with those letters you've written.”
    “You don't think -” Freddie murmured dejectedly.
    “No, I don't,” said Egerton. “The only hope is to settle out of court. It might even be held that you've rendered yourself liable to criminal prosecution.”
    “Oh look here, Richard, that's carrying things a bit far.”
    There was a small discreet buzz on Egerton's desk. He picked up the telephone receiver with a frown.
    “I thought I said I wasn't to be disturbed.”
    There was a murmur at the other end. Egerton said, “Oh. Yes - yes, I see. Ask her to wait, will you.”
    He replaced the receiver and turned once more to his unhappy-looking client.
    “Look here, Freddie,” he said, “I know the law and you don't. You're in a nasty jam. I'll do my best to get you out of it, but it's going to cost you a bit. I doubt if they'd settle for less than twelve thousand.”
    “Twelve thousand!” The unfortunate Freddie was aghast. “Oh, I say! I haven't got it, Richard.”
    “Well, you'll have to raise it then. There are always ways and means. If she'll settle for twelve thousand, you'll be lucky, and if you fight the case, it'll cost you a lot more.”
    “You lawyers!” said Freddie. “Sharks, all of you!” He rose to his feet. “Well,” he said, “do your bloody best for me, Richard old boy.”
    He took his departure, shaking his head sadly. Richard Egerton put Freddie and his affairs out of his mind, and thought about his next client. He said softly to himself, “The Honourable Elvira Blake. I wonder what she's like...” He lifted his receiver. “Lord Frederick's gone. Send up Miss Blake, will you.”
    As he waited he made little calculations on his desk pad. How many years since -? She must be fifteen - seventeen - perhaps even more than that. Time went so fast. Coniston's daughter, he thought, and Bess's daughter. I wonder which of them she takes after?
    The door opened, the clerk announced Miss Elvira Blake and the girl walked into the room. Egerton rose from his chair and came towards her. In appearance, he thought, she did not resemble either of her parents. Tall, slim, very fair, Bess's colouring but none of Bess's vitality, with an old-fashioned air about her; though that was difficult to be sure of, since the fashion in dress happened at the moment to be ruffles and baby bodices.
    “Well, well,” he said, as he shook hands with her. “This is a surprise. Last time I saw you, you were eleven years old. Come and sit