Champange for One

But I am getting along in years, and you are quite right, I should make provision against contingencies. As I told you, I must reject your suggestion that I give you a large sum outright—large enough for you and your daughter to live on the income. I distrust your attitude towards money. I fear that in your hands the principal would soon be squandered, and you would again appeal to me. Nor can I provide for you through a trust fund, either now or in my will, for the reasons I gave you. I will not risk disclosure.

So I have taken steps that should meet the situation. I have given my nephew, Austin Byne, a portfolio of securities the income from which is tax exempt, amounting to slightly more than $2,000,000. The yield will be about $55,000 a

This arrangement is recorded in an agreement signed by my nephew and myself. One provision is that if you make additional demands, if you disclose the relationship you and I once had, or if you make any claims on my estate or any member of my family, he is relieved of any obligation to share the income with you. Another provision is that if he fails to make the proper remittances to you with reasonable promptness you may claim the entire principal. In drafting that provision I would have liked to have legal advice, but could not. I am sure it is binding. I do not think my nephew will fail in his performance, but if he does you will know what to do. There is of course the possibility that he will squander the principal, but I have known him all his life and I am sure it is remote.

I have herewith kept my promise to confirm what I told you. I repeat that this letter is not to be taken as an acknowledgement by me that I am the father of your daughter, Faith. If you ever show it or use it as the basis of any claim, the remittances from my nephew will cease at once.

I close with all good wishes for die welfare and happiness of your daughter and yourself.

Yours sincerely,

Albert Grantham

As I finished and looked up Orrie said, “I want to give it to Mr Wolfe myself.”

“I don’t blame you.” I folded the sheets and put them in the envelope. “Quite a letter. Quite a letter. I saw a note in the paper the other day that some bozo is doing a biography of him. He would love to have this. You lucky stiff. I’d give a month’s pay for the kick you got when you found it.”

“It was nice. I want to give it to him.”

“You will. Wait here. Help yourself to champagne.”

I left, crossed to the office, stood until Wolfe finished a sentence, and told him, “Mr Gather wants to show you something. He’s in the dining-room.” He got up and went, and I sat down. Judging by the expression on Mrs Usher’s face, she had been doing fine. I really would rather not have looked at her, to see the cocky little tilt of her head, the light of satisfaction in her eyes, knowing as I did that she was about to be hit by a ton of brick. So I didn’t. I turned to my desk and opened a drawer and got out papers, and did things with them. When she told my back that she was glad I had brought them to Wolfe, she didn’t mind a bit explaining to him, I wasn’t even polite enough to turn around when I answered her. I had taken my notebook from my pocket and was tearing sketches of cats from it when Wolfe’s footsteps came.

As he sat down he spoke.” Bring Mr Byne, Archie. And Saul.”

I went and opened the door and said,” Come in, gentlemen.”

As Byne entered his eyes went to Mrs Usher and saw what I had seen, and then he too was satisfied. They took the seats they had had before. Wolfe looked from one to the other and back again.

“I don’t want to prolong this beyond necessity,” he said, “but I would like to congratulate you. You were taken in that place by surprise and brought here with no chance to confer, but you have both lied so cleverly that it would have taken a long and costly investigation to impeach you. It was an admirable performance—If you please, Mr Byne. You may soon speak, and you will need to. Unfortunately, for you, the performance was wasted. Fresh ammunition has arrived. I have just finished reading a document that was not intended for me.” He looked at Mrs Usher. “It states, madam, that if you disclose its contents you will suffer a severe penalty, but you have not disclosed them. On the contrary, you have done your best to safeguard them.”

Mrs Usher had sat up. “What document? What are you talking about?”

“The best way to identify it is to quote an excerpt—say, the fourth paragraph. It goes: ‘So I have taken steps that should meet the situation. I have given my nephew, Austin Byne, a portfolio of securities the income from which is tax exempt, amounting to slightly more than $2,000,000. The yield will be about $55,000 a

Byne was on his feet. The next few seconds were a little confused. I was up, to be between Byne and Wolfe, but the fury in his eyes was for Mrs Usher. Then, as he moved towards her, Saul was there to block him, so everything was under control. But then, with Saul’s back to her and me cut off by Saul and Byne, Mrs Usher shot out of her chair and streaked for Wolfe. I might have beat her to it by diving across Wolfe’s desk, but maybe not, from where I was, and anyway, I was too astonished to move—not by her, but by him. He had been facing her, so his knees weren’t under the desk and he didn’t have to swivel, but even so, he had a lot of pounds to get in motion. Back went his bulk, and up came his legs, and just as she arrived his feet were there, and one of them caught her smack on the chin. She staggered back into Saul’s arms and he eased her on to the chair. And I’ll be damned if she didn’t put both hands to her jaw and squawk at Wolfe, “You hit me!”

I had hold of Byne’s arm, a good hold, and he didn’t even know it. When he realized it he tried to jerk loose but couldn’t, and for a second I thought he was going to swing with the other fist, and so did he.

“Take it easy,” I advised him.” You’re going to need all the breath you’ve got.”

“How did you get it?” Mrs Usher demanded. “Where is it?” She was still clutching her jaw with both hands.

Wolfe was eyeing her, but not warily. Complacently, I would say. You might think that for a long time he had had a suppressed desire to kick a woman on the chin.

“It’s in my pocket,” he said. He tapped his chest. “I got it just now from the man who took it from your hotel room. You’ll probably get it back in due course; that will depend; it may—”

“That’s burglary,” Byne said. “That’s a felony.”

Wolfe nodded. “By definition, yes. I doubt if Mrs Usher will care to make the charge if the document is eventually returned to her. It may be an exhibit in evidence in a murder trial. If so—”

“There has been no murder.”

“You are in error, Mr Byne. Will you please sit down? This will take a while. Thank you. I’ll cover that point decisively with a categorical statement: Faith Usher was murdered.”

“No!” Mrs Usher said. Her hands left her jaw but remained poised, the fingers curved. “Faith killed herself!”

“I’m not going to debate the point,” Wolfe told her.” I say merely that I will stake my professional reputation on the statement that she was murdered—indeed, I have done so. That’s why I am applying my resources and risking my credit. That’s why I must explore the possibilities suggested by this letter.” He tapped his chest and focused on Byne. “For instance, I shall insist on seeing the agreement between you and Mr Grantham. Does it provide that if Faith Usher should die your remittances to her mother are to be materially decreased, or even cease altogether?”

Byne wet his lips.” Since you’ve read the letter to Mrs Usher you know what the agreement provides. It’s a confidential agreement and you’re not going to see it.”