Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen

There was tension in my father's room.Pop sat behind his desk and Inspector Taverner leaned against the window sill.In the guest's seat sat Mr. Gaskill, looking very displeased. "—special need for secrecy," he said bitterly. "—of course, of course," my father reassured him. "Ah, Charlie. You came just in time. Something surprising happened." "Unprecedented," said Mr. Gaskill. There was clearly something that displeased the little lawyer to the bone, and Inspector Taverner grinned at me behind him. "Can I restate the gist?" my father said. "Mr. Gaskill received a somewhat unexpected letter this morning from Mr. Agrodoporos, proprietor of Dilfers' Restaurant. He is a very old man, Greek, who in his youth received Mr. Aristide Leonides' help and friendliness. He has been deeply indebted to his friend and benefactor, and Mr. Leonides seems to have great confidence in him."

"I never expected Mr Leonides to be such a suspicious, mysterious man," Mr Gaskill said. "Of course, he's old--foolish, actually, so to speak." "It's about nationality," my father said mildly. "You know, Gaskill, when you are very old, your heart misses very much your youth and the friends of your youth." "But for more than forty years I have been in charge of Leonides' affairs," said Mr. Gaskill. "Forty-three years and six months, to be precise." Taverner grinned again. "What happened?" I asked. Mr. Gaskill opened his mouth, but my father spoke first.

"Mr. Agrodopooros stated in his letter that he was entrusted with some instructions from his friend Aristotle Leonides. Briefly, about a year ago, Mr. Leonides Entrusted him with a sealed envelope to be mailed to Mr. Gaskill as soon as Mr. Leonides died. As Mr. Agrodoporos died, his son, godson of Mr. Leonides , continues to be responsible for the implementation of this instruction. Mr. Agrodopooros apologized for his delay in notification, explaining that he was in bed with pneumonia and only learned of the death of his godfather yesterday afternoon." "The whole thing is the most amateurish thing," said Mr. Gaskill.

"When Mr. Gaskill opened the postcard to see what was in it. He felt it was his duty—" "Under the circumstances," said Mr. Gaskill. "Let's see. Inside the envelope is a signed co-witness countersigned will, and a letter explaining it." "So the will finally showed up?" I said. Mr. Gaskill turned purple. "Not the same will," he growled. "This is not the will I drew up at Mr. Leonides' request. It was written by him, the most dangerous thing a layman can do. It seems Mr. Leonides intended me to Make a fool of yourself."

Inspector Taverner tried to appease his bitterness. "He's a very old gentleman, Mr. Gaskill," he said. "They're going to be weird when they're old, you know—not weird, of course, but just a little weird." Mr Gaskill snorted. "Mr. Gaskill called us," said my father, "to tell us the principals of the will, and I want him to come here and bring those two papers with him. I'll call you at the same time, Charlie. .” I don't understand why you are calling me.It seemed to me that this move was particularly unorthodox, both to my father and to Taverner.Of course I'll know the contents of the will when the time comes, and how old Leonides distributes his estate has nothing to do with me.

There was clearly something that displeased the little lawyer to the bone, and Inspector Taverner grinned at me behind him. "Can I restate the gist?" my father said. "Mr. Gaskill received a somewhat unexpected letter this morning from Mr. Agrodoporos, proprietor of Dilfers' Restaurant. He is a very old man, Greek, who in his youth received Mr. Aristide Leonides' help and friendliness. He has been deeply indebted to his friend and benefactor, and Mr. Leonides seems to have great confidence in him." "I never expected Mr Leonides to be such a suspicious, mysterious man," Mr Gaskill said. "Of course, he's old--foolish, actually, so to speak."

"It's about nationality," my father said mildly. "You know, Gaskill, when you are very old, your heart misses very much your youth and the friends of your youth." "But for more than forty years I have been in charge of Leonides' affairs," said Mr. Gaskill. "Forty-three years and six months, to be precise." Taverner grinned again. "What happened?" I asked. Mr. Gaskill opened his mouth, but my father spoke first. "Mr. Agrodopooros stated in his letter that he was entrusted with some instructions from his friend Aristotle Leonides. Briefly, about a year ago, Mr. Leonides Entrusted him with a sealed envelope to be mailed to Mr. Gaskill as soon as Mr. Leonides died. As Mr. Agrodoporos died, his son, godson of Mr. Leonides , continues to be responsible for the implementation of this instruction. Mr. Agrodopooros apologized for his delay in notification, explaining that he was in bed with pneumonia and only learned of the death of his godfather yesterday afternoon."

"The whole thing is the most amateurish thing," said Mr. Gaskill. "When Mr. Gaskill opened the postcard to see what was in it. He felt it was his duty—" "Under the circumstances," said Mr. Gaskill. "Let's see. Inside the envelope is a signed co-witness countersigned will, and a letter explaining it." "So the will finally showed up?" I said. Mr. Gaskill turned purple. "Not the same will," he growled. "This is not the will I drew up at Mr. Leonides' request. It was written by him, the most dangerous thing a layman can do. It seems Mr. Leonides intended me to Make a fool of yourself."

Inspector Taverner tried to appease his bitterness. "He's a very old gentleman, Mr. Gaskill," he said. "They're going to be weird when they're old, you know—not weird, of course, but just a little weird." Mr Gaskill snorted. "Mr. Gaskill called us," said my father, "to tell us the principals of the will, and I want him to come here and bring those two papers with him. I'll call you at the same time, Charlie. .” I don't understand why you are calling me.It seemed to me that this move was particularly unorthodox, both to my father and to Taverner.Of course I shall know the contents of the will when the time comes, and how old Leonides divides his estate has nothing to do with me.

"Is it a different will?" I asked. "I mean, does the will divide his estate differently?" "There is a difference," said Mr. Gaskill. My father looked up.Inspector Taverner looked at me very carefully, and I felt a little uneasy... Something was going on in both of their heads - and I had no clue. I looked at Gaskill inquiringly. "It's none of my business," I said. "but--" He reacted. "The distribution of Mr Leonides' estate is certainly no secret," he said. "I think it's my duty to let the police know first, and let them guide me on what to do next. I know," he paused, "that there's—let's say—between you and Miss Sophia Leonides. Is it because you have an understanding of each other?"

"I wish to marry her," I said, "but she won't at present." "That's a very fitting idea of ​​hers," Gaskill said. I disagree, but this is not the time to argue. "According to this will," said Mr Gaskill, "done on the 9th of November last year, Mr Leonides bequeathed all his property to his grandson, except for £150,000 to his wife. Daughter Sophia Kathleen Leonides." I took a big breath, I didn't expect this to happen. "He's leaving it all to Sophia," I said. "How unusual, is there any reason?" "He made his reasons very clear in the letter," my father said.He picked up a sheet of letter paper from the table in front of him. "You have no objection to having this letter read by Charlie, Mr. Gaskill?" "As you please," said Mr. Gaskill dryly. "At least the letter does provide an explanation - and perhaps (though I doubt it) an excuse for Mr Leonides' unusual behaviour." Dad handed me the letter.It is written in very thick black ink and small awkward and unreadable fonts. The font shows the unique personality of the author, and it does not seem to be written by an old man at all—except for the cautious way the letter is folded. Obsolete, the way people used it in a time when letters were considered treasures when the literacy population was low, which may also somewhat indicate that the letter was written by an old man. Dear Gaskill: (Letter reads) You will be dismayed to receive this letter; perhaps even offended.It seems to you that I don't need to be so mysterious, but I have my reasons for doing so.I have long believed in the uniqueness of the individual.In a family (I've observed this as a kid, and I'll never forget it), there is always one strong person, and it usually falls to that person to take care of the rest of the family.In my family, I am the person.I came to London to build my business here, to support my mother and elderly grandparents in Smyrna, to save one of my brothers from prison, to help my sister out of an unhappy marriage, to live free days and so on.God was pleased with this and gave me a long life to take care of my children and their children.Many of them have been taken by death; the rest, I am glad to say, live under my roof.When I die, the responsibility for what I took has to pass to someone else.I debated with myself whether to distribute my wealth as equitably as possible to my beloved offspring -- but doing so would not end up achieving the right results.Men are not created equal - in order to make up for their natural inequalities, they must be corrected for balance.In other words, one person must be my successor, and the burden of taking care of other family members must be placed on his or her shoulders.After careful observation, I don't think either of my two sons is suitable for this task.My beloved son Roger has no business sense, and though it is true that good-natured people are too easily driven by emotion to have good judgment, I feel sorry for it.My other son, Philippe, was so low on himself that he could do nothing but withdraw from reality.My grandson, Eustace, is too young, and I don't think he has the necessary common sense and judgment.He is lazy and very easily influenced by others.Only my granddaughter Sophia, in my opinion, has the necessary character.She had brains, judgment, courage, and a fair, even-handed, and, I think, generous spirit.I entrust the well-being of my family to her--and that of my kind sister-in-law, Edith Haviland, for whom I am deeply grateful for her life's devotion. This explains the documents attached to this letter.What is more difficult to explain--or rather to explain to you, my old friend--is the deceit I employ.I thought it wise not to arouse speculation about the distribution of my fortune, and I had no intention of letting my family know that Sofia was the heir to my estate.Since my two sons have already received a substantial gift from me, I do not feel that my testamentary distribution would put them in a humiliating position. To freeze curiosity and speculation, I want you to draw up a will for me.I will read your drafted will aloud to them in front of them.I put it on my desk, covered it with a piece of blotting paper, and called for two servants at the same time.When the servants came, I moved the blotter up a bit to reveal the bottom of the will, signed my name, and asked them to sign as well.Needless to say, I signed with them the will I now enclose, not the one you drew up and which I read aloud to them. I dare not hope that you will understand the reason for my trick.I can only ask you to forgive me for keeping you in the dark.A very old man likes to keep his little secret. Thank you, my dear friend, for the diligent attention you have always given to my affairs.Please send my deepest love to Sophia.Ask her to take good care of the family and not let them get hurt. Aristide Leonevan on the road I read this amazing document with great interest. "Weird," I said. "Very queer," said Mr. Gaskill, raising his voice. "I repeat, I think my old friend Mr. Leonides can trust me." "No, Gaskill," my father said. "He's a heretic by nature. He likes, if I may put it that way, not to play by the rules." "Yes, sir," said Inspector Taverner. "He's such a heretic by nature!" He said with emotion. Mr. Gaskill quietly walked away angry, deeply wounded in his professionalism. "It hit him hard," Taverner said. "Very reputable firm, Gaskill Calram & Co. No fraud. Old Leonides never transacted anything questionable through Gaskill Callum & Co. He There are more than half a dozen law firms working for him. Oh, he's a heretic!" "Nothing is more evident than the making of this will," my father said. "We're all fools," said Taverner. "When you consider that the only person who can play that will game is the old boy himself, it doesn't even occur to us that he might want to!" I remembered Josephine saying proudly: "Aren't the police stupid?" But Josephine was not present when the will was read.And even if she was eavesdropping outside the door (which I'm pretty sure!), it would be next to impossible for her to guess what her grandpa was up to.So why is she putting on that superior air?What on earth did she know that made her call the police stupid?Or is this just another show off? Aware of the silence in the room, I looked up suddenly—my father and Taverner were both looking at me.I don't know what it was about their attitude that I suddenly cried out in protest: "Sophia doesn't know about this! Not at all." "Don't know?" my father said. I'm not quite sure if his statement was an agreement or a question. "She's going to freak out!" "yes?" "Scared!" There was a pause.Then, the phone on my father's desk rang suddenly. "Hello?" He picked up the receiver—listen, and said, "Take her here." He looks at me. "Your woman is calling," he said. "She wants to talk to us, it's urgent." I took the receiver. "Sophia?" "Charlie? Is that you? It's—Josephine!" Her voice cracked. "What's the matter Josephine?" "She had a head injury, a concussion. She's — she's pretty serious...they said she probably won't recover..." I turn to the other two. "Josephine was knocked out," I said. My father snatched the receiver, and he said sharply to me: "I told you to keep an eye on that kid..."