Free Death and the Jubilee by David Dickinson Page B

explanation for that. In Germany the two banking functions, a city bank and a private bank, could have been combined into one. In London we do
things differently. Mr Lothar Harrison – he must be a cousin of the Frederick who runs Harrison’s City – lives in Eastbourne and another cousin called Leopold lives in Cornwall,
just across the bay from Plymouth, in a place called Cawsand. They run the private bank.’
    ‘Do you think,’ said Powerscourt, ‘that the split could have anything to do with the murder, William?’
    ‘That’s definitely your department, Francis,’ said Burke. ‘I just stick with the money.’
    Powerscourt laughed. ‘You stick with the money, please. But tell me more about Harrison’s City.’
    ‘They deal in most of the traditional banking areas of London. They are strong on foreign loans and have been very successful in that field. They run a profitable arbitrage business too,
said to be making them a mint of money.’
    ‘Arbitrage? What, pray, is Arbitrage?’ Powerscourt felt like a new boy at school with only a week to learn all the rules.
    ‘Sorry, Francis, I should have explained. Arbitrage depends on exploiting tiny price differentials in different markets. It could only be done with the telegraph sending constantly updated
information. Let me put it at its simplest. Suppose you see that Ohio and Continental Railroad stock can be bought for one hundred pounds in New York and sold for one hundred and one and a
fifteenth in London. There is your opportunity. If you are prepared to invest considerable sums into these transactions, you can make a lot of money.’
    Powerscourt groaned inwardly at his ignorance of the intricate workings of the City of London. Maybe he would have to come to regular tutorials with his brother-in-law.
    ‘But there is one fact, I think,’ Burke went on, ‘more important than all of these. I had forgotten it until yesterday when these people inquiring about you reminded me of
it.’
    Burke rose from his chair and paced about his study. His house was very quiet now, wife and children retired to the upper floors.
    ‘Death is no stranger to the House of Harrison, Francis. You could almost say they were cursed. The family tree goes like this. Carl Harrison, Old Mr Harrison of Harrison’s City, the
man found floating by London Bridge, had two brothers and one sister. One brother died in Frankfurt, I believe. His two sons, Leopold and Lothar, as I said, now run the private bank here in London.
The other brother had nothing to do with the bank but his grandson Charles is now a rising force in Harrison’s City. Carl Harrison had two sons, Willi and Frederick. Willi was the elder son.
He built up Harrison’s City after his father retired. The younger brother Frederick played a minor role in the bank’s affairs. They say he did not have the drive of his
brother.’
    Powerscourt suspected that the Harrison family tree was going to be almost as complicated as Lady Lucy’s.
    ‘What happened to Willi?’ Powerscourt suddenly wondered if there might be two strange deaths waiting for him the next morning.
    ‘Willi was drowned. Or at least everybody presumes he was drowned. He went sailing off Cowes in his little yacht about eighteen months ago. Willi was a very experienced sailor. But he
never came back. The boat was never found. The body was never found. Some of the sailing experts in the City said it was impossible, that Willi and his little boat had disappeared like that. Some
men suspected foul play. But there was never any evidence . . .’
    William Burke left his sentence hanging in the air.
    ‘Two deaths in the same family in a year and a half. One body never found, another one floating by London Bridge.’ Powerscourt looked sombre. ‘And the young man, Charles
Harrison, now, you say, a rising force in Harrison’s City. The old man was his great-uncle, and his four uncles ran the two banks between them. Is that right?’
    Burke nodded.
    ‘Why