The Shortest Way to Hades

“Some such notion,” I said, “had crossed my mind. What a fortunate coincidence that none of you is busy.”

“Not busy?” said Ragwort. “My dear Hilary, you surely do not imagine that we have abandoned our labors at this early hour of the afternoon to engage in idle gossip? We are in conference.”

“That’s right,” said Cantrip. “We’ve all got to zoom along to old Loppylugs tomorrow to get him to do a trust bust.” Cantrip was educated — I use the expression in its broadest possible sense — at the University of Cambridge, and I do not always find it easy to understand him. From my acquaintance with him, however, I was now sufficiently familiar with the Cambridge idiom to gather that the members of the Nursery were all instructed in connection with an application under the Variation of Trusts Act to be made on the following day before Mr. Justice Lorimer.

“With a view to saving our clients a large sum in capital transfer tax,” said Selena, “we are varying the trusts in reversion on the interest of a lady in her late eighties, and not, alas, in the best of health. The saving depends on this being done in her lifetime, and we’re rather anxious that there shouldn’t be any defect in our evidence which might oblige us to ask for an adjournment. So we’re going through it now to make sure it’s in order.”

They decided, after some debate, that the evidence was not of a confidential nature, and that I might remain to hear it; they promised that after this we would adjourn to the Corkscrew. When I had settled myself in the least uncomfortable of the chairs provided for lay clients and solicitors, Selena began to read her client’s affidavit.

I, Jocasta Fiske-Purefoy of Fiske House, Belgrave Place, London S.W. 1, Widow, make oath and say as follows:

I am the Plaintiff in these proceedings and save where the contrary expressly appears the facts herein stated are within my own knowledge.

The purpose of this application is to seek the approval of this Honorable Court of an Arrangement varying the trusts of the Will dated 20th March 1934 of Sir James Remington-Fiske, Baronet (hereinafter called “the Testator”) who died on the 16th day of April 1934 and Probate of whose said Will was granted out of the Principal Probate Registry on the 30th day of May 1934.

A family tree showing the persons at present in existence who are or may become beneficially interested under the said Will is now produced and shown to me marked “J.F.-P.1.” The relevant certificates of birth, marriage and death are now produced and shown to me tied together in a bundle marked “J.F.- P.2.”

For the assistance of my readers, I have arranged for a copy of exhibit J.F.-P.1 to be reproduced at the beginning of this volume. It will be observed, however, that the precise dates of birth, marriage and death of the baronet’s descendants have been left incomplete — a circumstance which caused Selena some vexation: she did not, she said, expect much of her instructing solicitors, but she had imagined that even a dozy firm like Tancred’s would have known how to prepare a family tree.

“We have the certificates,” said Ragwort. “If I go through them while you’re reading your affidavit and make a note of the dates, we can hand it to the judge at the hearing.”

“With apologies,” said Selena, still displeased, “for it’s not being properly sworn. Yes, thank you, Ragwort, that would be most kind.”

As appears from the said family tree the Testator was survived by his widow Lady Frances Remington-Fiske, who is still living, and by six children. His three sons, however, have all since died unmarried and without issue, the younger two having been killed in action in the Second World War and the eldest having died some years later.

I am the eldest of the Testator’s three daughters, being now 65 years of age, and have been married once, namely to the late Leonard Charles Purefoy. There was one child of my said marriage, namely my late daughter Petronella. Petronella was married once, namely to Rupert Galloway, and my granddaughter, Camilla Fiske-Galloway, is the only child of the said marriage.

The second of the Testator's daughters was my late sister Lalage, who was married once, namely to the late Arthur Robinson. My niece Deirdre Robinson is the only child of the said marriage.

“There are persons of great eminence,” I remarked, “whose surname is Robinson. But I somehow suspect a certain coming down in the world.”

“You suspect rightly,” said Selena. “After spending her first youth — and indeed most of her second youth — in dutiful spinsterhood, Lalage sniffed the permissive air of the Sixties and ran off with a garage mechanic. I gather that the family weren’t too pleased.”

My daughter Petronella and my sister Lalage both died in a tragic accident when travelling in a motor-car driven by my sister’s said husband, who also suffered fatal injuries.

At the time of the tragedy Camilla was five years old and Deirdre was one year old. It was decided that both children should come to live at Fiske House, where I myself had resided with my mother since the death of my husband. They both still reside with my mother and myself at that address. Camilla is now 21 years of age and is in her second year at the University of Cambridge, where she is reading Law. Deirdre is now 11 years of age and accordingly still a minor and is in her last term at school.

My sister Dorothea is the youngest of the Testator’s daughters, being now 52 years of age, and has been married twice. Her first marriage, namely to George Edward Fairfax, ended in divorce. She now resides with her second husband, namely Constantine Demetriou, who is of Greek nationality, at the Villa Miranda near the village of Casiope in the island of Corfu. There are two children only of her first marriage, namely Lucian and Lucinda Fairfax, who are twins and are now 23 years of age. There is one child only of her second marriage, namely Leonidas Demetriou, who is now 16 years of age and accordingly still a minor. All three children normally reside with my sister in the said island of Corfu, though the twins engage extensively in travel and Leonidas is a pupil at Godmansworth College, an English boarding-school.

The Testator by his said Will—

“I say,” said Cantrip, “shouldn’t she say that someone’s just waved a copy of the Will at her marked J.F.-P. thingummy?”

From the scandalized response of his colleagues I gathered that this was a very shocking suggestion. The Probate copy of the Will — that was to say, the photographic copy made in the Probate Registry and bound up in the document confirming the title of the executors to administer the estate — the Probate copy was considered to form part of an order of the Court and to need no verification. The Probate would be among the papers already left with the Judge’s Clerk and would prove itself: to suppose otherwise was a grave solecism.

“It’s all very well you talking about solipsisms,” said Cantrip. “If I was poor old Loppylugs I’d rather have a few solipsisms than be made to plough through the Probate thingy. I bet it’s one of the old-fashioned kind, all in handwriting with no punctuation or paragraphs and running to umpteen pages.”

“No one is suggesting,” said Selena, “that Mr. Justice Lorimer should actually read the Probate. The solicitors, I devoutly hope, will have provided him with a nice typed copy, just like the ones we have ourselves. But that’s for convenience, you see, not as part of the evidence.”

I endeavored to look less perplexed than Cantrip by the fineness of this distinction.

— devised his residuary real estate (which principally consisted of certain agricultural land in the County of Wiltshire) to his trustees in strict settlement upon trust for his widow Lady Frances Remington-Fiske during her life with remainder to his eldest son James for life with remainder in tail to the eldest son of James to attain 21 with remainder in tail to the second and every other son of James to attain that age successively according to seniority with remainder in tail to the eldest daughter of James to attain that age or previously marry with remainder in tail—

“Selena,” I said, “is there any end to all this?”

“My summary,” said Selena, “is almost ruthlessly concise. If set out in full, these provisions would run to eight pages.”