Dance to Your Daddy

'You mentioned money and murder to me yesterday. What money would this be?'

The girl pulled off hat and wig, flung them down and kicked at them. As she did so, something heavy in the pocket of her long travelling-coat struck her companion on the knee.

'My money,' she replied. 'It was left me, but there are some silly, unfair conditions. You see, when I die, unless I have children, Romilly and Judith will have it all. That's why I'm so frightened. Of course, until I'm twenty-five, I can't have it, but neither can they, so I'm sure they want to keep me alive until then. After that, unless someone will help me, I think I'm doomed. Those two are capable of anything, and, alone and friendless, I'm helpless against them.'

'You say that until you reach the age of twenty-five you cannot claim your inheritance. That I can understand. Many families prefer the heir to be older than twenty-one before trusting him or her with a fortune. I also understand that the next heir, should you die without issue, is Romilly Lestrange. What I do not understand is why he cannot inherit if you die before you are twenty-five.'

'I don't understand it, either. It's something to do with my grandfather's will. It's all very unsatisfactory and puzzling. It seems, according to the lawyers, that if I die before the age of twenty-five, all the money goes to some old lady called Bradley. That's as much as I know. That's if Romilly has told me the truth, of course.'

'I thought you said that the lawyers had told you all this.'

'Oh, well, yes, so they did, but Romilly told me something more. According to him, if it could be proved that I was unfit to handle the money either before or after I inherit it, it would all be taken out of my hands and administered for me. I know what that would mean. In effect, Romilly would have it. He's my guardian.'

'Let me get this clear,' said Dame Beatrice, testing the girl. 'To inherit your grandfather's fortune, you must reach your twenty-fifth birthday. Should you die before that birthday, the money would go to an old woman named Bradley, whom you do not know. If you reach that birthday, and then either die or are considered incapable of managing your affairs, the fortune goes to Romilly Lestrange.'

'Or if I'm considered incapable before I'm twenty-five. Why did he ask you to come here?'

'I understand I am not to be the only guest,' said Dame Beatrice, side-stepping the question. 'Is there not to be quite a large houseparty?'

'Oh, I believe so. Why should all these idiotic relations come to Galliard Hall?'

'Perhaps Romilly thinks that Miss Judith is in need of young society.'

'I think she's Mrs Judith. I think they're married. And do you know what else I'm beginning to think? I think he dare not kill me himself, and he's going to sound out these others, and find which one can be bribed to do it for him. I suppose he's brought you here as a second string to his bow, in case the killing doesn't come off. You're a psychiatrist, he tells me, and your name is Professor Beatrice Adler. Are you related to the famous Adler, by any chance?'

'There are two famous Adlers,' Dame Beatrice responded. 'There is Alfred Adler, the pupil of, and, later, the dissentient from, Sigmund Freud, who, to my mind, was inestimably the greater man, and there is also, of course, the musician Larry Adler, of whom I hear good reports from my younger relatives.'

'Oh, yes, I adore him and his harmonica-playing. I think he's wonderful,' said Rosamund.

'They allow you a radioset, then,' said Dame Beatrice, deciding to shelve the question of her name. In Romilly Lestrange, she was beginning to think, she had hit what Laura would call 'a new high' in her catalogue of smooth villains. She was also beginning to wonder whether Rosamund was quite what she seemed.

'Well, they did, until they took it out of my room and threw it away. From that time they haven't let me have any proper clothes. That's to stop me running away again, of course,' said the girl.

'And you did not throw the radio set into the sea?'

'Of course I didn't! I wanted it. I miss it terribly.'

'Nor did you drown the gramophone records, the cat, and the monkey?'

'Of course I didn't. They made it all up. They've also got some silly story about a baby doll. It's all such a lot of nonsense-but it's very wicked, all the same. I'm in a trap, and I'm dreadfully frightened.'

'Were you ever pregnant?'

'How could I be? Surely they didn't tell you that! I'm not even married.'

'That, of course, is not necessarily an obstacle to a pregnancy.'

'You're not on their side, are you? I thought you were my friend! Have you brought me out here to kill me? I've got a pistol in my pocket, you know!'

George spoke for the first time since the car had moved away from the house.

'Don't be silly, miss,' he said, in a severely avuncular tone. 'I beg your pardon, madam. I ought to tell you, though, that ever since we turned off B3351 I've had an idea I was being followed, and now I'm sure I am. Would there be any instructions?'

'No, George. Just carry on to Swanage, as planned.' She turned to her charge. 'What was your grandfather's name?'

'Felix Napoleon Lestrange. He died in April, 1966.'

'So you are a Lestrange by birth? Most interesting.'

As they passed the obelisk on Ballard Down, George reported that the other car had turned off to the left for Studland.

'Was it Romilly's car?' asked Rosamund.