伯特伦旅馆之谜17
时间：2026-01-04 07:51:32
（单词翻译:单击）
Chapter Ten
The offices of Egerton, Forbes & 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 anymore and no Wilboroughs. Instead there were Atkinsons,
father and son, and a Welsh Lloyd and a Scottish McAllister. There was,
however, still an Egerton, descendant of the original Egerton. This particu-
lar 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 al-
ways good advice, but he seldom minced his words.
“Quite frankly you haven’t got a leg to stand upon, Freddie,” he was say-
ing. “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 pro-
secution.”
“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 bod-
ices.
“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 here.” He
pulled forward a chair and she sat down.
“I suppose,” said Elvira, a little uncertainly, “that I ought to have written
first. Written and made an appointment. Something like that, but I really
made up my mind very suddenly and it seemed an opportunity, since I
was in London.”
“And what are you doing in London?”
“Having my teeth seen to.”
“Beastly things, teeth,” said Egerton. “Give us trouble from the cradle to
the grave. But I am grateful for the teeth, if it gives me an opportunity of
seeing you. Let me see now; you’ve been in Italy, haven’t you, finishing
your education there at one of these places all girls go to nowadays?”
“Yes,” said Elvira, “the Contessa Martinelli. But I’ve left there now for
good. I’m living with the Melfords in Kent until I make up my mind if
there’s anything I’d like to do.”
“Well, I hope you’ll find something satisfactory. You’re not thinking of a
university or anything like that?”
“No,” said Elvira, “I don’t think I’d be clever enough for that.” She
paused before saying, “I suppose you’d have to agree to anything if I did
want to do it?”
Egerton’s keen eyes focused sharply.
“I am one of your guardians, and a trustee under your father’s will, yes,”
he said. “Therefore, you have a perfect right to approach me at anytime.”
Elvira said, “Thank you,” politely. Egerton asked:
“Is there anything worrying you?”
“No. Not really. But you see, I don’t know anything. Nobody’s ever told
me things. One doesn’t always like to ask.”
He looked at her attentively.
“You mean things about yourself?”
“Yes,” said Elvira. “It’s kind of you to understand. Uncle Derek—” she
hesitated.
“Derek Luscombe, you mean?”
“Yes. I’ve always called him uncle.”
“I see.”
“He’s very kind,” said Elvira, “but he’s not the sort of person who ever
tells you anything. He just arranges things, and looks a little worried in
case they mightn’t be what I’d like. Of course he listens to a lot of people—
women, I mean — who tell him things. Like Contessa Martinelli. He ar-
ranges for me to go to schools or to finishing places.”
“And they haven’t been where you wanted to go?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. They’ve been quite all right. I mean they’ve been
more or less where everyone else goes.”
“I see.”
“But I don’t know anything about myself, I mean what money I’ve got,
and how much, and what I could do with it if I wanted.”
“In fact,” said Egerton, with his attractive smile, “you want to talk busi-
ness. Is that it? Well, I think you’re quite right. Let’s see. How old are you?
Sixteen—seventeen?”
“I’m nearly twenty.”
“Oh dear. I’d no idea.”
“You see,” explained Elvira, “I feel all the time that I’m being shielded
and sheltered. It’s nice in a way, but it can get very irritating.”
“It’s an attitude that’s gone out of date,” agreed Egerton, “but I can quite
see that it would appeal to Derek Luscombe.”
“He’s a dear,” said Elvira, “but very difficult, somehow, to talk to seri-
ously.”
“Yes, I can see that that might be so. Well, how much do you know about
yourself, Elvira? About your family circumstances?”
“I know that my father died when I was five and that my mother had
run away from him with someone when I was about two, I don’t remem-
ber her at all. I barely remember my father. He was very old and had his
leg up on a chair. He used to swear. I was rather scared of him. After he
died I lived first with an aunt or a cousin or something of my father’s, un-
til she died, and then I lived with Uncle Derek and his sister. But then she
died and I went to Italy. Uncle Derek has arranged for me, now, to live
with the Melfords who are his cousins and very kind and nice and have
two daughters about my age.”
“You’re happy there?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve barely got there. They’re all very dull. I really
wanted to know how much money I’ve got.”
“So it’s financial information you really want?”
“Yes,” said Elvira. “I’ve got some money. Is it a lot?”
Egerton was serious now.
“Yes,” he said. “You’ve got a lot of money. Your father was a very rich
man. You were his only child. When he died, the title and the estate went
to a cousin. He didn’t like the cousin, so he left all his personal property,
which was considerable, to his daughter—to you, Elvira. You’re a very rich
woman, or will be, when you are twenty-one.”
“You mean I am not rich now?”
“Yes,” said Egerton, “you’re rich now, but the money is not yours to dis-
pose of until you are twenty- one or marry. Until that time it is in the
hands of your Trustees. Luscombe, myself and another.” He smiled at her.
“We haven’t embezzled it or anything like that. It’s still there. In fact,
we’ve increased your capital considerably by investments.”
“How much will I have?”
“At the age of twenty-one or upon your marriage, you will come into a
sum which at a rough estimate would amount to six or seven hundred
thousand pounds.”
“That is a lot,” said Elvira, impressed.
“Yes, it is a lot. Probably it is because it is such a lot that nobody has ever
talked to you about it much.”
He watched her as she reflected upon this. Quite an interesting girl, he
thought. Looked an unbelievably milk-and-water Miss, but she was more
than that. A good deal more. He said, with a faintly ironic smile:
“Does that satisfy you?”
She gave him a sudden smile.
“It ought to, oughtn’t it?”
“Rather better than winning the pools,” he suggested.
She nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. Then she came out abruptly
with a question.
“Who gets it if I die?”
“As things stand now, it would go to your next of kin.”
“I mean—I couldn’t make a will now, could I? Not until I was twenty-
one. That’s what someone told me.”
“They were quite right.”
“That’s really rather annoying. If I was married and died I suppose my
husband would get the money?”
“Yes.”
“And if I wasn’t married my mother would be my next of kin and get it. I
really seem to have very few relations—I don’t even know my mother.
What is she like?”
“She’s a very remarkable woman,” said Egerton shortly. “Everybody
would agree to that.”
“Didn’t she ever want to see me?”
“She may have done…I think it’s very possible that she did. But having
made in—certain ways—rather a mess of her own life, she may have
thought that it was better for you that you should be brought up quite
apart from her.”
“Do you actually know that she thinks that?”
“No. I don’t really know anything about it.”
Elvira got up.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s very kind of you to tell me all this.”
“I think perhaps you ought to have been told more about things before,”
said Egerton.
“It’s humiliating not to know things,” said Elvira. “Uncle Derek, of
course, thinks I’m just a child.”
“Well, he’s not a very young man himself. He and I, you know, are well
advanced in years. You must make allowances for us when we look at
things from the point of view of our advanced age.”
Elvira stood looking at him for a moment or two.
“But you don’t think I’m really a child, do you?” she said shrewdly, and
added, “I expect you know rather more about girls than Uncle Derek does.
He just lived with his sister.” Then she stretched out her hand and said,
very prettily, “Thank you so much. I hope I haven’t interrupted some im-
portant work you had to do,” and went out.
Egerton stood looking at the door that had closed behind her. He pursed
up his lips, whistled a moment, shook his head and sat down again, picked
up a pen and tapped thoughtfully on his desk. He drew some papers to-
wards him, then thrust them back and picked up his telephone.
“Miss Cordell, get me Colonel Luscombe, will you? Try his club first. And
then the Shropshire address.”
He put back the receiver. Again he drew his papers towards him and
started reading them but his mind was not on what he was doing.
Presently his buzzer went.
“Colonel Luscombe is on the wire now, Mr. Egerton.”
“Right. Put him through. Hallo, Derek. Richard Egerton here. How are
you? I’ve just been having a visit from someone you know. A visit from
your ward.”
“From Elvira?” Derek Luscombe sounded very surprised.
“Yes.”
“But why—what on earth—what did she come to you for? Not in any
trouble?”
“No, I wouldn’t say so. On the contrary, she seemed rather — well,
pleased with herself. She wanted to know all about her financial position.”
“You didn’t tell her, I hope?” said Colonel Luscombe, in alarm.
“Why not? What’s the point of secrecy?”
“Well, I can’t help feeling it’s a little unwise for a girl to know that she is
going to come into such a large amount of money.”
“Somebody else will tell her that, if we don’t. She’s got to be prepared,
you know. Money is a responsibility.”
“Yes, but she’s so much of a child still.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“What do you mean? Of course she’s a child.”
“I wouldn’t describe her as such. Who’s the boyfriend?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I said who’s the boyfriend? There is a boyfriend in the offing, isn’t
there?”
“No, indeed. Nothing of the sort. What on earth makes you think that?”
“Nothing that she actually said. But I’ve got some experience, you know.
I think you’ll find there is a boyfriend.”
“Well, I can assure you you’re quite wrong. I mean, she’s been most
carefully brought up, she’s been at very strict schools, she’s been in a very
select finishing establishment in Italy. I should know if there was anything
of that kind going on. I dare say she’s met one or two pleasant young fel-
lows and all that, but I’m sure there’s been nothing of the kind you sug-
gest.”
“Well, my diagnosis is a boyfriend—and probably an undesirable one.”
“But why, Richard, why? What do you know about young girls?”
“Quite a lot,” said Egerton dryly. “I’ve had three clients in the last year,
two of whom were made wards of court and the third one managed to
bully her parents into agreeing to an almost certainly disastrous marriage.
Girls don’t get looked after the way they used to be. Conditions are such
that it’s very difficult to look after them at all—”
“But I assure you Elvira has been most carefully looked after.”
“The ingenuity of the young female of the species is beyond anything
you could conjecture! You keep an eye on her, Derek. Make a few inquir-
ies as to what she’s been up to.”
“Nonsense. She’s just a sweet simple girl.”
“What you don’t know about sweet simple girls would fill an album! Her
mother ran away and caused a scandal — remember? — when she was
younger than Elvira is today. As for old Coniston, he was one of the worst
rips in England.”
“You upset me, Richard. You upset me very much.”
“You might as well be warned. What I didn’t quite like was one of her
other questions. Why is she so anxious to know who’d inherit her money
if she dies?”
“It’s queer your saying that, because she asked me that same question.”
“Did she now? Why should her mind run on early death? She asked me
about her mother, by the way.”
Colonel Luscombe’s voice sounded worried as he said: “I wish Bess
would get in touch with the girl.”
“Have you been talking to her on the subject—to Bess, I mean?”
“Well, yes…Yes I did. I ran across her by chance. We were staying in the
same hotel, as a matter of fact. I urged Bess to make some arrangements to
see the girl.”
“What did she say?” asked Egerton curiously.
“Refused point-blank. She more or less said that she wasn’t a safe per-
son for the girl to know.”
“Looked at from one point of view I don’t suppose she is,” said Egerton.
“She’s mixed-up with that racing fellow, isn’t she?”
“I’ve heard rumours.”
“Yes, I’ve heard them too. I don’t know if there’s much in it really. There
might be, I suppose. That could be why she feels as she does. Bess’s friends
are strong meat from time to time! But what a woman she is, eh Derek?
What a woman.”
“Always been her own worst enemy,” said Derek Luscombe, gruffly.
“A really nice conventional remark,” said Egerton. “Well, sorry I
bothered you, Derek, but keep a look out for undesirables in the back-
ground. Don’t say you haven’t been warned.”
He replaced the receiver and drew the pages on his desk towards him
once more. This time he was able to put his whole attention on what he
was doing.
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