The Fingerprint

Chapter XXIII

MR. MAUDSLEY arrived at half-past-ten, having taken the night train from Edinburgh and breakfasted at his own house. He was a man of about sixty with a pleasant voice and an agreeable manner. His features were good, and if he had put on a couple of stone in the last year or two he carried it well. After a short interview with Detective Inspector Abbott during which the main facts of the case were put before him he suggested that the will should be opened and the beneficiaries acquainted with its contents.

They came into the study. With Mrs. Fabian and Georgina Mr Maudsley was on terms of old acquaintance. Johnny Fabian and Anthony Hallam he had known as boys. Mirrie Field and Miss Silver were strangers to him. Mirrie came in with her hand on Johnny’s arm, her eyes wide and enquiring, like a kitten in a place it does not know. Whilst greetings and condolences were passing she stood as close as she could and kept her hold of him. Mr. Maudsley’s “I needn’t say how shocked I was to hear the news” having met with its due response, and a few more murmured words having been added, he went over to the writing-table and sat down there. When everyone was settled he spoke.

“I have here Mr. Field’s will, of which I am an executor. In the circumstances I think the best thing I can do is to acquaint you with its provisions.”

His manner was grave and formal. His glance travelled from one to another. Chairs had been placed in a rough semicircle-Frank Abbott sitting close up to the table on the extreme right; beyond him Miss Maud Silver in a small armless chair; next to her Mirrie Field and Johnny Fabian, their seats pushed close together and her hand still holding his sleeve. She wore the white wool jumper and grey skirt which she had put on yesterday. Anthony Hallam came next, his face set and rather gloomy, and beyond him Georgina, very pale.

Mrs. Fabian had been given Jonathan Field’s big chair, but for all the comfort it afforded her she might just as well have had a wooden stool. She sat stiffly upright in a black coat and skirt usually reserved for funerals and held her hands tightly clasped together in her lap. She mustn’t, mustn’t, let herself think that Jonathan had possibly made any provision for her. It was true that she had been asked to come in and hear the will read, but that would just be because she had lived for such a long time at Field End and had brought Georgina up. At the most there might be some small legacy that would cover the expense of a move, say ten or twenty pounds. But no, she mustn’t even let herself count on that, and she must be on her guard against displaying the least sign of disappointment. Dear Mamma had brought her up to believe that a lady did not show her feelings in public. She had done her best to bring dear Georgina up in the same way, and look how beautifully she was behaving now-such self-command, such true thoughtfulness for others. But she didn’t like to see her looking so pale and strained. She had loved Jonathan very much and she would miss him greatly. Perhaps she and Anthony… She felt a little fluttered pleasure at the thought.

Mr. Maudsley was speaking.

“Captain Hallam is also an executor. With his permission I will at this time merely give you a summary of the main bequests. There are, to begin with, legacies to Mr. and Mrs. Stokes-twenty pounds for each year of service, with the same to the gardener John Anderson. There is a legacy of five thousand pounds to Anthony Hallam, and a life-interest of four hundred a year to Mrs. Fabian. Everything else is left in trust to Miss Georgina Grey, the trustees being myself and Captain Anthony Hallam.”

A little colour came up into Georgina ’s face. She did not look at Anthony. If she had done so she would have seen that he was frightfully pale. It was evident both to Mr. Maudsley and to Frank Abbott that he had received a very considerable shock.

He was not the only one. Mirrie Field turned a bewildered gaze on Mr. Maudsley. Her voice shook childishly as she said,

“But I don’t understand. That isn’t the will he made when he went up to town on Monday-it can’t be.”

“No, it isn’t that will, Miss Field. It is the one which he signed two years ago.”

“But he made the other one-he did make it! He told me he had made it!” She stared incredulously, her fingers digging into Johnny’s arm.

Mr. Maudsley said with gravity,

“Yes, he made another will, but he destroyed it.”

“Oh, he couldn’t!”

“It is a pity that you came to know anything about it. He seems to have told you that you would benefit under that will.”

“Oh, he did-he did! He told me he was treating me as if I was his daughter! He said he wanted everyone to know that was how he thought about me!”

Mr. Maudsley had come down to Field End with a very definite prejudice against Miss Mirrie Field. He had not been prepared to find her so young, or for his own feeling that fate had played her a shabby trick. If Jonathan Field had not burned his new will before he was murdered, she would now have been standing in Georgina ’s shoes. If he had lived to make the will which he had intended to make, she would no doubt have been generously provided for. As it was, she had no standing at all. Two years ago, when this will which he was expounding had been drawn up, he did not so much as know that she existed. He said in a kindlier voice than he had used before,

“Your uncle rang me up on Tuesday night. He had come to feel that this new will of his went too far. He did not think that the provisions were just, and he told me that he had torn it up and burned it. On my return from Scotland he intended making a further will which would provide for you without being unjust to anyone else.”

“I don’t get anything?”

“Not under the present will.”

Mirrie let go of Johnny’s arm and stood up. She came a few steps nearer the table and said,

“It was Georgina. She went out of the drawing-room and she came in here and made him burn the will. She can’t do that to me-oh, she can’t! Not after what he said about treating me like his daughter! She can’t do it!” It came out in soft heart-broken snatches, her hands at her breast, her face colourless, her eyes brimming over.

Georgina got up and came to her.

“Mirrie-don’t!”

But Mirrie shrank away from her touch.

“You want to send me away! He was going to look after me, and you talked him round!”

“Mirrie-you mustn’t say that. It isn’t true-it isn’t really. I told him I didn’t mind about the money. I only wanted him not to be angry with me any more. I didn’t know why he was angry and I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t know he was going to burn his will. He just did it.”

They might have been there alone. It might have been a play, with the others in the audience looking on. Mirrie looked sideways and said,

“Perhaps he didn’t burn it. Perhaps it was you.”

Mr. Maudsley came in on that.

“Mr. Field rang me up and informed me that he had burned that will.”

Mirrie flung round on him.

“You are on her side! You’ll take her part! Everyone will! You’ll try and send me back to Uncle Albert and Aunt Grace, and to that awful Home! But I won’t go-I won’t go- I won’t go!” Her voice had risen almost to a scream, and at every repetition of the word go she stamped like an angry child.

Johnny Fabian had got up when she did. He took a step towards her. Turning away from the writing-table, she came face to face with him. No one was sure whether he said anything or not. Afterwards he wasn’t sure himself. With the tears running down her face she said,

“Oh, you won’t want to marry me now-will you?” and ran out of the room.