Grave Mistake (29 page)

“Nothing like that.”

“But — there’s something, isn’t there?”

“Well, yes. It appears that the Dr. Schramm who qualified at Lausanne was never Mr. Smythe, and I’m afraid Schramm was
not
a family name of Mr. Smythe’s mama. But it appears he will inherit his fortune. He evidently suggested — no doubt with great tact — that as the change had not been confirmed by deed poll, Smythe was still his legal name. And Smythe, to Mr. Rattisbon’s extreme chagrin, it is in the Will.”

“That,” said Verity, “is I’m afraid all too believable.”

Alleyn waited for a moment and then said: “You’ll see, won’t you, why I was so anxious that Prunella should be taken away before we went to work in the churchyard?”

“What? Oh, that. Yes. Yes, of course I do.”

“If she was on the high seas she couldn’t be asked as next of kin to identify.”

“That would have been — too horrible.”

Alleyn got to his feet. “Whereas she is now, no doubt, contemplating the flesh-pots of the Côte d’Azure and running herself in as the future daughter-in-law of the Markos millions.”

“Yes,” Verity said, catching her breath in a half-sigh, “I expect so.”

“You sound as if you regret it.”

“Not really. She’s a level-headed child and it’s the height of elderly arrogance to condemn the young for having different tastes from one’s own. It’s not my scene,” said Verity, “but I think she’ll be very happy in it.”

And at the moment, Prunella was very happy indeed. She was stretched out in a chaise-longue looking at the harbour of Antibes, drinking iced lemonade and half-listening to Nikolas and Gideon, who were talking about the post from London that had just been brought aboard.

Mr. Markos had opened up a newspaper. He gave an instantly stifled exclamation and made a quick movement to refold the paper.

But he was too late. Prunella and Gideon had both looked up as an errant breeze caught at the front page.

“It’s no good, darlings,” Prunella said after a pause, “trying to hide it all up. I’m bound to hear, you know, sooner or later.”

Gideon kissed her. Mr. Markos, after making a deeply sympathetic noise, said: “Well — perhaps.”

“Go on,” said Prunella. “You know you’re dying to read it.”

So he read it and as he did so the circumspection of the man of affairs and the avid, dotty desire of the collector were strangely combined in Mr. Markos. He folded the paper.

“Darling child,” said Mr. Markos. “You now possess a fortune.”

“I suppose I must.”

He picked up her hands and beat them gently together. “You will, of course, take advice. It will be a momentous decision. But
if
,” said Mr. Markos, kissing first one hand and then the other, “
if
after due deliberation you decide to sell, may your father-in-law have the first refusal? Speaking quite cold-bloodedly, of course,” said Mr. Markos.

The well-dressed, expensively gloved and strikingly handsome passenger settled into his seat and fastened his belt.

Heathrow had passed off quietly.

He wondered when it would be advisable to return. Not, he fancied, for some considerable time. As they moved off the label attached to an elegant suitcase in the luggage rack slipped down and dangled over his head.

The End

Document ID: 69cad3dd-4df0-4af1-a778-2138f5027924

Document version: 1

Document creation date: 13 June 2010

Created using: calibre - 0.6.39, FictionBook Editor 2.4 software

• oldcrab
  

1.0: конвертация из html в fb2; форматирование; вычитка

This book was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.0.35.0.

Эта книга создана при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.0.35.0 написанного Lord KiRon