Chapter 10 chapter Ten

I woke up so gradually that I didn't know at first that I had just fallen asleep.The scent of flowers is tangy.There is a small white circular spot floating in front of my eyes.It took me a few seconds to realize that what I was looking at was a human lid—a face suspended a foot or two before my eyes.As my senses returned, my sight became more precise.The face still had its elfin aspects—a round face, with protruding eyebrows, hair brushed back, and small black eyes that looked like beads.But this face is indeed attached to the body - a small, bony body.It is watching me eagerly. "Hi," it said.

"Hi," I replied with a wink. "I'm Josephine." I have deduced it.Sophia's sister, Josephine, was, I deduce, about eleven or twelve years old.She was a surprisingly ugly child who looked very much like her grandfather.It seemed to me that she might have the same mind as him. "You're Sophia's boyfriend?" Josephine said. I admit she was right. "But you came with Inspector Taverner, why did you come with Inspector Taverner?" "he is my friend." "Really? I don't like him. There are things I won't tell him."

"What kind of thing?" "Some things I know, a lot of things I know. Things I like to know." She sat down on the arm of the chair and continued to study my face.I started to feel quite uncomfortable. "Grandpa was murdered. Did you know that?" "Yes," I said. "I know." "He was poisoned. He was poisoned with Iserin." She said the word Iserin very cautiously. "Interesting, isn't it?" "I think so." "Eustace and I are very interested. We love detective stories. I've always wanted to be a detective, and I am now. I'm gathering clues."

I feel that she is a kind of cruel child. she started asking again. "The guy who came with Inspector Taverner was a detective too? Books say you can always tell a plainclothes detective by the boots they wear. But this detective wore suede shoes." "The old rules have changed," I said. Josephine interpreted the sentence according to her own thoughts. "Yes," she said. "There's going to be a lot of changes here now, I think. We're going to live in a house on the Embankment in London, and Mum has been wanting to move there for a long time, and she'll be very happy. I don't think Dad will care, as long as his Books were also moved there. He couldn't afford it before. He lost a lot of money because of 'Ji Sebo'."

"Jessabo?" "Yes, haven't you seen it?" "Oh, is it a play? No, I haven't seen it. I'm abroad." "It didn't run very long. Actually, it didn't do well at the box office. I don't think Mom would be the right character for that, do you?" Let me compare my impression of Magda.Neither her in her peach-colored home dress nor her special skirt suit gives any hint of "whore", but I am willing to believe that there is another version of Magda that I have not yet seen. "Maybe not," I said cautiously. "Grandpa always said that play was going to be a big flop. He said he wouldn't spend any money sponsoring performances of those historical religious plays. He said it would never be a box office success, but Mum was very keen and I didn't like it too much, so It's not at all like the original story in the bible. I mean, Jisebo in that play is not as evil as in the bible. She becomes very patriotic in the play and is really pretty good, which is Made the whole show dull. Still, the ending was okay. They threw her out the window and only two dogs went and ate her. I guess it's kind of scary, don't you think? I like the dogs to chomp on her Mom said you couldn't put that many dogs on stage, but I don't see why not. You could get some actor dogs." She cheerfully quotes: "'They ate her down to two palm.' Why don't they eat her palm?"

"I really don't know," I said. "You don't think dogs are that special. Our dogs are not like that. They eat everything." Josephine pondered for a few seconds this biblical myth. "I'm sad that the play failed miserably," I said. "Well, Mom was so worried. The movie reviews were so scary. When she saw it, she cried all day and threw the whole breakfast plate on Gladys, and Gladys quit. Kind of funny." "I know you like plays, Josephine," I said. "They did an autopsy on Grandpa," Josephine said. "To find out how he died. They call the post-mortem abbreviated as P. M., but I think that abbreviation is a little confusing, don't you think? Because P. M also stands for 'Prime Minister,' and 'afternoon.'" she said. To add thoughtfully.

"Are you sad that your grandpa died?" I asked. "Not particularly sad. I don't like him very much. He won't let me learn ballet." "You want to learn to dance ballet?" "Yes, my mother is willing to let me learn, but my father doesn't care, but my grandfather said that it is useless for me to dance ballet." She slid off the arm of the chair, kicked off her shoes, and struck a vigorous tiptoe pose. "Of course, you have to wear proper shoes," she explained, "and even then, sometimes you get abscesses on your toes." Putting her shoes back on, she asked casually:

"Do you like this house?" "I'm not sure," I said. "I think it's going to be sold now. Unless Brenda stays here. And I don't think Uncle Roger and Aunt Clemency are going away now either." "Are they leaving?" I asked with some interest. "Yes. They're leaving on Tuesday. Out of the country. Somewhere. They're flying out. Aunt Clemency bought a new light suitcase." "I didn't hear they were going abroad," I said. "Yes," said Josephine. "Nobody knows, it's a secret. They're not going to tell anyone before they go abroad, they're going to leave a note for Grandpa."

She added: "Instead of pinning the note to the pin-cushion. It's only done in old-fashioned books when wives run away and leave notes for their husbands. But that's pretty stupid now too, because nobody has pin-cushions anymore." "Of course they wouldn't. Josephine, do you know why your Uncle Roger--leaved?" She shot me a sly look. "I think I know. Something to do with Uncle Roger's business in London. I kind of think—though I'm not sure—that he's embezzled something." "Why do you think so?" Josephine came closer, breathing in my face.

"Uncle Roger was with him in his room for a long time the day he got poisoned, and they talked non-stop. Uncle Roger said he'd been useless, that he'd let Grandpa down - said it wasn't about the money —that he felt he was not worthy of his trust. He was in a terrible condition." I looked at Josephine with mixed emotions. "Josephine," I said, "hasn't anyone ever told you that it's bad to overhear people?" Josephine nodded sharply. "They told me, of course. But if you want to find out anything, you'll have to stand outside and listen. I'll bet Inspector Taverner did the same, don't you think?"

I thought about it.Josephine continued fiercely: "Anyway, even if he didn't, the other one must have, the one with the suede shoes. And they search people's desks, read all their letters, and find out their secrets. They're just stupid! They don't Know where to look!" Josephine said proudly.I was stupid enough not to deduce it from her words.The nasty boy went on: "Eustace and I know a lot of things—but I know more than Eustace, and I don't tell him. He says women can't make great detectives. But I say they can, and I'm going to take everything Put it in a notebook and then, when the police fail completely, I tell them, 'I can tell you who did it'." "Have you read many detective stories, Josephine?" "A lot." "I suppose you think you know who killed your grandpa?" "Oh, I think so—but I've got to find some more clues." She paused, then added, "Inspector Taverner thinks Brenda did it, doesn't he? Or thinks it's Brenda and Lawrence did it together because they love each other." "You shouldn't say that, Josephine." "Why not? They're in love." "You can't tell." "I can. They correspond with each other, love letters." "Josephine! How do you know?" "Because I've read it, a very sentimental letter. But Lawrence is a sentimental man. He's too frightened to go to war, he hides in the basement and tends the boiler. He always looks scared when the bombs fly by." Green--really green. Made me and Eustace laugh so hard." I don't know what I will say when I go down, because at this moment the sound of a car stopping outside came.Josephine ran quickly to the window, leaning her snub nose against the pane. "Who's here?" I asked. "It's Mr. Gaskill, Grandpa's lawyer. I think he's here for the will." She hurried off excitedly, no doubt to continue her detective work. Magda Leonides came in and to my surprise she came up to me and took my hands. "My dear," she said, "thank goodness you're still here. There's a great need for a man at this time." She let go of my hand, walked to a high-backed chair, shifted its position a little, and glanced at herself in the mirror, "then picked up a small enamel decoration box from the table and stood there, thinking , open, cover; cover, open. Charming gesture. Sophia poked her head over from the door and warned in a low voice, "Gaskill!" "I know," said Magda. After a while, Sophia came in, and there was a little old man beside her. Magda put down the enamel box and went to meet him. "Good morning, Mrs. Phillips. I am going upstairs and it appears that there has been some misunderstanding in the will. Your husband has written to say that the will is kept with me. As I understand it, Mr. Leonides himself Said it was in his safe. I suppose you don't know anything about it?" "About poor old dear's will?" Magda opened her eyes wide in astonishment. "I don't know, of course I don't know. Don't say that the wicked woman upstairs destroyed it?" "Mrs. Philips," he waved at her warningly. "Don't jump to conclusions. It's just a matter of where your father-in-law keeps it." "But he sent it to you--of course he did--after it was signed. He did tell us that he had sent it to you." "As far as I know, the police have sorted out Mr Leonides' private papers," Mr Gaskill said. "I'll go and speak to Inspector Taverner." he leaves. "Honey," Magda called. "She ruined it, and I know I'm right." "Nonsense, Mom, she won't do such a stupid thing." "It's not stupid at all. If there is no will, then everything is hers." "She—Mr. Gaskill is back." The lawyer came in again, Inspector Taverner with him, and behind Taverner Philip. "As far as I know from Mr. Leonides," said Gaskill, "he deposited his will in the bank for safekeeping." Taverner shook his head. "I have approached the bank. They say they do not have any personal papers of Mr. Leonides, except some fine securities." Philip said: "I don't know if it's Roger—or Aunt Edith—perhaps, Sophia, you go and ask them to come down here." Roger Leonides, however, was of little help when he was called in with the others to the family meeting. "But this—absurd, absurd," he declared. "Papa signed the will and specifically said he was going to send it to Mr. Gaskill the next day." "If my memory serves me right," said Mr. Gaskill, reclining in his chair, with half-closed eyes, "I drafted it on the 24th of November last year, following Mr. Leonides' instructions. After he confirmed it, he sent it back to me, and then I sent him the official will to sign at the right time. After a week, I took the liberty of reminding him that I hadn't received his signature yet. attested will, and asked him if he wished to make any amendments. He wrote back that he was quite satisfied with the will, and that he had deposited it with his correspondent bank after it had been signed." "You're right," said Roger eagerly. "It was about the end of November last year—do you remember, Philip?—and papa called us all up one evening, and read his will to us." Taverner turned to Philip Leonides. "Does your memory do the same, Mr. Leonides?" "Yes," said Philip. "It was a bit like the 'Inheritance' play," said Magda, who echoed cheerfully. "I've always thought there was something very dramatic about wills." "Miss Sophia, what about you?" "Yes," said Sophia. "I remember it perfectly." "What about the terms of the will?" Taverner asked. When Mr. Gaskill was about to answer, Roger Leonides beat him by saying: "It was a very simple will. Electra and Joyce were dead, and their share of a gift from Papa returned to Papa. Joyce's son, William, was killed in a campaign in Burma, and he The inheritance went to Papa. Philip and I, with the children, were the only surviving relations. Papa explained this. He left Aunt Edith £50,000 net of tax and £100,000 net of tax to Brenda, this house is also for Brenda or she can buy another suitable house in London for her, she chooses. The rest will be divided into three equal parts, one for me, one for Philip, Sophia, Eustace, and Josephine will share the rest, and the latter two's two depositary trust funds will not be used by him until they are adults. I think that's right, Guy Mr Schill?" "In a nutshell—these are the terms of my will," said Mr. Gaskill, looking a little sour for not letting him explain the terms himself. "Dad read it to us," said Roger. "He asked if we had any comments. Of course no." "Brenda has a problem," Miss Haviland said. "Yes," said Magda enthusiastically. "She said she couldn't stand her dear old Aristide talking about death. That 'made her creepy', she said. And said she didn't want a dime from him when he was dead!" "That," said Miss de Haviland, "is just a gesture, that's what she is." This is a cruel and bitter little remark.It dawned on me how much Edith Haviland didn't like Brenda. "A very fair and reasonable distribution of the estate," Mr Gaskill said. "And after reading the will?" Inspector Taverner asked. "After reading it," said Roger, "he signed it." Taverner leaned forward. "When and how did he sign it?" Roger looked at his wife for help, Clemency spoke under his gaze, and the rest of the family seemed to agree with her. "You want to know the exact situation?" "If you will, Mrs. Roger." "My father-in-law put the will on his desk and told one of us—Roger, I think—to ring the bell, which Roger did. When Jonson answered the bell, my father-in-law told him to find Jenny Woomer , the maid who served the tea for the guests. When they were all here, he signed and asked them to sign their own under his." "Proper procedure," Mr Gaskill said. "The will must be signed in the presence of two witnesses who must also sign at the same time and place." "And then?" Taverner asked. "My father-in-law thanked them and they left. My father-in-law took the will and put it in a long envelope and said he would send it to Mr. Gaskill the next day." "You all agree," said Inspector Taverner, looking around the group, "that this is exactly what happened that day?" Everyone agreed with one voice. "You say the will is on the desk. How close are you to the desk?" "Not too close, only five or six yards lately, perhaps." "Did Mr. Leonides sit behind his desk when he read his will?" "yes." "Did he ever stand up, or leave his desk, before he finished reading and signing his will?" "No." "Can the servant see the contents of the will when he signs it?" "Can't see it," said Clemency. "My father-in-law put a piece of paper on top of the will to cover up the content." "Quite the right thing to do," said Philip. "The content of the will has nothing to do with the servant." "I understand," said Taverner. "At least—I don't understand." He quickly produced a long envelope, leaned over and handed it to the lawyer. "Take a look," he said, "and tell me what's in there." Mr. Gaskill drew a folded document from the envelope.He looked at it in astonishment, turning it over and over in his hands. "That," he said, "is a bit surprising. I don't understand it at all. May I ask where it comes from?" "In the safe, with Mr Leonides' other papers." "What's that?" Roger asked. "Why are you making such a fuss?" "Here's the will I prepared to sign for your father, Roger—but—I don't understand, after you've all said that—it's not signed." "What? Oh, I guess it's just a draft." "No," said the lawyer. "The original draft has been sent back to me by Mr. Leonides. Then I will prepare the official will—this will." He flicked the document in his hand, "and send it to him for signature. According to your He signed the will in your presence--and it was countersigned by two witnesses--but there is no signature on the will." "But it's impossible," cried Philip Leonides.I have never heard him speak so animatedly. Taverner asked, "How good is your father's eyesight?" "He has cataracts. Of course, he wears depth glasses when he sees." "Did he wear glasses that night?" "Of course, he didn't take the glasses off until after he signed it. I guess I'm right?" "Quite right," said Clemency. "And no one -- are you all sure -- approached the desk before the will was signed?" "I'm a little skeptical now," said Magda, narrowing her eyes. "If only that scene could be repeated." "No one approached that desk," Sophia said. "Grandfather has been sitting there." "Where was the desk then as it is now? Not near doors, windows, or any curtains?" "Just like where it is now." "I'm trying to understand how some kind of packet drop happens," Taverner said. "The bag must have been lost in some way. Mr. Leonides thought he signed the document he had just read." "Isn't it possible that the signature was erased?" asked Roger. "No, Mr. Leonides. If it is wiped off, it cannot be without a trace of the wipe. Another possibility is that Gaskill did not give Mr. Leonides and that he Sign the signed document in front of you." "On the contrary," said Mr. Gaskill. "I could have sworn it was the same document I sent him for his signature, and there was a small crack in the paper -- at the top left -- that kind of looked like an airplane. I noticed it then." The family looked at each other in blank dismay. "Very, very peculiar circumstances," Mr Gaskill said. "In my experience, this has never happened before." "This whole thing is impossible," Roger said. "We're all there. It's just impossible." Miss Haviland coughed dryly. "It's no good going out there to go to the trouble of saying that what has happened can't happen," she opined. "What now? That's what I want to know." Suddenly Mr. Gaskill reverted to his old scrupulous lawyer. "This has to be studied very carefully," he said. "Of course, this will annuls all previous wills. There were many witnesses who saw Mr. Leonides sign a will which he certainly believed to be this one. Well, very interesting, quite a legal one." small issue." Taverner glanced at his watch. "I'm afraid," said he, "that I have delayed you all from lunch." "Won't you stay and eat with us, Inspector?" asked Philip. "Thank you, Mr. Leonides, but I'm going to see Dr. Gray." Philip turned to the lawyer. "Will you eat with us, Gaskill?" "Thank you, Philip." Everyone stood up.I humbly moved sideways towards Sophia. "Should I go or stay?" I asked in a low voice. "Go, I think," said Sophia. I slipped out quietly and gave chase to Taverner.Josephine was swinging from one of the doors leading into the inner room, and she looked like she was amused by something. "The police are stupid," she said. Sophia came out of the living room. "What are you doing, Josephine?" "I'm helping Lanny." "I think you've been sticking to the door and eavesdropping." Josephine made a face at her and backed away. "That kid," said Sophia, "is quite a problem."