Free The Belting Inheritance by Julian Symons Page A

– ”
    He didn’t say what he would do and this uncompleted exit line was comic, or if you liked Miles as I did, pathetic.
    That left the three of us in the drawing-room, David and Markle and I, and again I seemed to detect in David a change, this time a sense of relaxation as though a hurdle had been surmounted and a breathing space was possible. As David wandered about the room exclaiming at the odds and ends and knick-knacks he remembered, a papier mâché chair and a frame for an embroidery panel, and as Markle said that he must be getting along or they would lock him out of the Rising Sun, I said casually and with no sense of putting a searching question, “What made you choose that name – Stiver?” I hesitated about adding “Uncle David,” and decided against it.
    Markle merely raised his eyebrows, but David’s head jerked back as if we were boxers, and I had shaken him with an uppercut. “What do you mean?”
    What had I meant? “Well, it was a kind of joke I suppose, was it? Not having a stiver, that means not having any money. Was that it?”
    “Yes, of course.” It seemed to me that he accepted this suggestion with relief. “It was a joke. A pretty bad one, you may think, but a joke, that’s all.”
    I don’t know why I should have been dissatisfied by this explanation, but the feeling of dissatisfaction stayed with me as David saw Markle out, and then said goodnight to me. I went up to bed, along the corridor that no longer held terrors, with my mind in a whirl. I was in my pyjamas and brushing my teeth when there was a knock on the door.
    I do not know who I had expected to see standing there, but I was certainly surprised to see Stephen. He too was in pyjamas and dressing-gown, and I was fascinated to see that his neck, when not confined by a tight collar was white as an asparagus stalk. He looked round at my wallpaper and prints with a dislike which I could see he did not want to express, and it was with a humouring air that he said, “I see, you like this sort of thing, do you?” To this remark I made no reply. He tugged at his dressing-gown and burst out, “You’ve got to help expose this fraud.”
    I have made it clear that there was no love lost between Stenhen and me, and the effect of this remark was to make me feel immediately more kindly disposed towards David. “Why do you say he’s a fraud?”
    “It’s obvious. Don’t you think I’d know if he were my brother?”
    “What about the wallet and the book?”
    “This man must have taken them off David, or got possession of them in some way.”
    “And Mamma recognised him.”
    I knew that it infuriated Stephen to bear me calling Lady W, Mamma. He controlled himself with an effort, and said as he had done before, “She’s determined to believe it.”
    I sat down on the bed. “As a matter of fact I think he may be a fraud too.”
    He asked me why, but did not seem impressed when I told him about the name. “I don’t believe that idea, about not having a stiver, had occurred to him before. He just accepted it when I suggested it.”
    “Does it matter?”
    “My æsthetic sense tells me there’s something wrong about it.” I could not resist adding, “You see now that there are advantages in belonging to the Æsthetes’ Society.”
    “What?”
    “At school. We burn incense while we worship Oscar Wilde on prayer mats.”
    This was strictly untrue, but I think Stephen half-believed it. The stalk of his neck bulged with his effort to keep his temper. “Are you willing to help?”
    “What do you want me to do?”
    “While that man is here I shall not leave this house. The ascendancy he has gained already over Mamma is appalling.”
    “Uncle Miles is here.” Stephen made no reply to this, and I was left to wonder whether he was doubtful of Miles’ capacity to deal with David. “I suppose you’re afraid that Mamma may change her will.”
    “If she did, you would be affected too.” He stopped again, realising I suppose