Free Richardson's First Case by Basil Thomson

funeral expenses. Is he entitled to put the brake on like this?”
    â€œI’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong person, Mr. Reece, I’m not a lawyer.’’
    â€œNo, of course you’re not, but in a simple matter like this I don’t want to run to the expense of a solicitor.”
    â€œWell, sir, it’s quite outside my province. If you think the police are in a position to help you, I should advise you to go down to the Yard and ask to see Mr. Beckett, the chief constable.”
    â€œThank you; that’s a very good suggestion. I’ll go at once.”
    When Beckett read the name on the interview form, he had the visitor shown in, for he remembered that this was the man who could throw more light on the Catchpool case than anyone else. He received him with grim civility and invited him to sit down. “You are, I think, the nephew of Mr. and Mrs. Catchpool, on whom the inquest was held this morning. What can I do for you?”
    â€œYou can do a great deal for me, sir, if you will. I can’t bear to think of my uncle and aunt being given pauper funerals. I’m the nearest relative, and it’s my duty to have their funerals done in style, but I’m a poor man and I cannot get any sense out of my uncle’s executor. Surely he ought to provide the money out of the estate.”
    â€œIf your uncle left a will, that was probably included. Have you seen him about it?”
    â€œI’ve been to see him every day—not perhaps about the funeral expenses, but about advancing me something out of the estate. But not a bit of it: he won’t budge. He’s an old man, and I think he’s barmy.”
    â€œDid your uncle leave much property?”
    â€œOh, yes; he was fairly well-to-do! Apart from the moneylending business he had a lot of house property and a biggish deposit in the bank.”
    â€œWas he on bad terms with his wife?”
    â€œWell, it was this way: She was the daughter of Mr. Alston, the senior partner in that big house-agent firm—Alston & Catchpool. There were two daughters; the elder one married a man who rose to be a colonial governor out in the East and was knighted. The younger one, my aunt, got engaged to my uncle, the junior partner, and her father didn’t like it—thought, I suppose, that she ought to do better for herself. Anyway, she married him and the partnership dissolved. My uncle took out his share and invested it in house property. The business grew, and the richer he got the more miserly he became in his habits. His wife always treated him like dirt under her feet, if you know what I mean, and fifteen or twenty years ago they agreed to separate. She had a small income from her father, and my uncle was induced by the solicitor to agree in the deed of separation to let her live, rent free, in one of his flats. A year or two later her sister sent her little boy home to be educated for the navy, and she took charge of him. About the time he was to go to Osborne his father, Sir Walter Sharp, died in Singapore, and within three months Lady Sharp followed him, so the boy was left to the guardianship of my aunt.”
    â€œDid he get a commission in the navy?”
    â€œDid he not? Oh, he’s quite the naval officer—looks down his nose at me whenever we are unlucky enough to meet—quite the affectionate cousin is Lieutenant Michael Sharp, I can assure you—”
    â€œDid your uncle and aunt often meet after their separation?”
    â€œNot oftener than they could help. Whenever they did I was careful to keep out of the way. It was no place for little Herbert.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWell, people don’t often improve with age, do they? My uncle had become miserly and short-tempered; my aunt had grown faultfinding and grand—seemed to think she belonged to another world and that we were not good enough for her. Her airs and graces used to drive the old man into a furious rage, and