Crime at Tattenham Corner by Annie Haynes Page A

Sir John signed the paper – the will as we know it was now – and I and James signed after him.”
    â€œWhat did you do next?”
    Ellerby looked a little surprised at the question. “Nothing, sir, there was nothing to be done. Sir John, he told me to go to bed and he went off to take the car to the garage – he wouldn’t let anybody touch her but himself, and me and James went to bed. That is all, inspector.”
    â€œYes.” The inspector turned over two or three pages of his notebook rapidly. “There are two questions I must put to you, Mr. Ellerby. The first is – are you certain that it was Sir John Burslem himself who signed the will?”
    Ellerby looked thunderstruck. “Am I sure that it was Sir John himself who signed the will? Why, of course I am sure, inspector. I could swear to it in any court of law in the land.”
    â€œYou don’t think you can have been deceived by a clever impersonation – that somebody might have dressed up to look like him?”
    Ellerby shook his head; a ghastly smile played momentarily round his thin lips.
    â€œThere’s nobody on earth could have dressed up to deceive me, inspector. It was Sir John himself that signed that will. There can’t be any question of that!”
    â€œOh, well, thank you, that seems pretty conclusive.”
    â€œNow for my second question,” the inspector went on. “Did you go straight to bed when you had signed as a witness of the will?”
    â€œStraight to bed?” Ellerby echoed in an amazed tone. “Why, of course I did, when Sir John said he should not want me again. Pretty tired I was and slept like a log until I was awakened by the phone message just before seven o’clock.”
    â€œThat is all then, thank you, Mr. Ellerby.” The inspector closed his notebook and fastened an elastic round it with a snap. “I am much obliged to you.” He got up as he spoke.
    Ellerby got up too. “I wish I could do something to help you, inspector. Anything to find poor Sir John’s –” His voice trailed off to a whisper as he escorted them to the hall.
    The two detectives walked to the end of the Square before they managed to pick up a taxi. When they were safely ensconced in it, Stoddart looked at Harbord with a smile.
    â€œYour theory does not seem to hold water, my lad.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Harbord said slowly. “I do not like Ellerby: he is keeping something back.”
    â€œI could have told you that on the 3rd of June,” the inspector said at once. “The question is: What is it?”

CHAPTER 7
    â€œI thought you said you were going abroad, Sophie.”
    Mrs. Aubrey Dolphin was the speaker. She looked curiously at her sister. The two were in Lady Burslem’s sitting-room, a room that had been specially done up by Sir John in the delicate tints that best suited his young wife’s colouring. The walls were grey, and panelled in the very faintest blue. A long strip of wonderful tapestry hung between the windows. Only the old rose in the Aubusson carpet gave a touch of colour. The chairs and sofa were covered in grey silk damask. The cushions matched save that pink and black curves and lines ran riot over them. A couple of Chippendale chairs and a table stood near the window. There were no pictures or photographs or ornaments except an impressionist sketch of Sir John Burslem that hung over the mantelpiece, and a big copper bowl of roses on the writing-table.
    â€œI did think of going abroad,” Lady Burslem said wearily. “I thought perhaps when everything was different I might forget. But it seems I can’t go until this dreadful inquest is over. They say my testimony may be wanted any time. And – and there is any amount of business that I must do myself. That mine in South Africa – I must see the manager.”
    â€œSophie! What on earth do you know about mines in South Africa or