family would still be there. I think the wire saying she was returning to France came actually a few days before Christmas.'
'And you believe that this woman whose body was found in the sarcophagus might be this Martine?'
'No, of course I don't. But when you said she was probably a foreigner – well, I couldn't help wondering… if perhaps…'
Her voice died away.
Craddock spoke quickly and reassuringly.
'You did quite right to tell me about this. We'll look into it. I should say there is probably little doubt that the woman who wrote to you actually did go back to France and is there now alive and well. On the other hand, there is a certain coincidence of dates, as you yourself have been clever enough to realise. As you heard at the inquest, the woman's death according to the police surgeon's evidence must have occurred about three to four weeks ago. Now don't worry, Miss Crackenthorpe, just leave it to us.' He added casually, 'You consulted Mr. Harold Crackenthorpe. What about your father and your other brothers?'
'I had to tell my father, of course. He got very worked up,' she smiled faintly. 'He was convinced it was a put-up thing to get money out of us. My father gets very excited about money. He believes, or pretends to believe, that he is a very poor man, and that he must save every penny he can. I believe elderly people do get obsessions of that kind sometimes. It's not true, of course, he has a very large income and doesn't actually spend a quarter of it – or used not to until these days of high income tax. Certainly he has a large amount of savings put by.' She paused and then went on. 'I told my other two brothers also. Alfred seemed to consider it rather a joke, though he, too, thought it was almost certainly an imposture. Cedric just wasn't interested – he's inclined to be self-centered. Our idea was that the family would receive Martine, and that our lawyer, Mr. Wimborne, should also be asked to be present.'
'What did Mr. Wimborne think about the matter?'
'We hadn't got as far as discussing the matter with him. We were on the point of doing so when Martine's telegram arrived.'
'You have taken no further steps?'
'Yes. I wrote to the address in London with 'Please forward' on the envelope, but I have had no reply of any kind.'
'Rather a curious business… Hm…'
He looked at her sharply.
'What do you yourself think about it?'
'I don't know what to think.'
'What were your reactions at the time? Did you think the letter was genuine – or did you agree with your father and brothers? What about your brother-in-law, by the way, what did he think?'
'Oh, Bryan thought that the letter was genuine.'
'And you?'
'I – wasn't sure.'
'And what were your feelings about it – supposing that this girl really was your brother Edmund's widow?'
Emma's face softened.
'I was very fond of Edmund. He was my favourite brother. The letter seemed to me exactly the sort of letter that a girl like Martine would write under the circumstances. The course of events she described was entirely natural. I assumed that by the time the war ended she had either married again or was with some man who was protecting her and the child. Then perhaps, this man had died, or left her, and it then seemed right to her to apply to Edmund's family – as he himself had wanted her to do. The letter seemed genuine and natural to me – but, of course, Harold pointed out that if it was written by an impostor, it would be written by some woman who had known Martine and who was in possession of all the facts, and so could write a thoroughly plausible letter. I had to admit the justice of that – but all the same…'
She stopped.
'You wanted it to be true?' said Craddock gently.
She looked at him gratefully.
'Yes, I wanted it to be true. I would be so glad if Edmund had left a son.'
Craddock nodded.
'As you say, the letter, on the face of it, sounds genuine enough. What is surprising is the sequel, Martine Crackenthorpe's abrupt departure for Paris and the fact that you have never heard from her since. You had replied kindly to her, were prepared to welcome her. Why, even if she had to return to France , did she not write again? That is, presuming her to be the genuine article. If she were an impostor, of course, it's easier to explain. I thought perhaps that you might have consulted Mr. Wimborne, and that he might have instituted inquiries which alarmed the woman. That, you tell me, is not so. But it's still possible that one or other of your brothers may have done something of the kind. It's possible that this Martine may have had a background that would not stand investigation. She may have assumed that she would be dealing only with Edmund's affectionate sister, not with hard-headed suspicious business men. She may have hoped to get sums of money out of you for the child (hardly a child now – a boy presumably of fifteen or sixteen) without many questions being asked. But instead she found she was going to run up against something quite different. After all, I should imagine that serious legal aspects would arise. If Edmund Crackenthorpe left a son, born in wedlock, he would be one of the heirs to your grandfather's estate?'
Emma nodded.
'Moreover, from what I have been told, he would in due course inherit Rutherford Hall and the land round it – very valuable building land, probably, by now.'
Emma looked slightly startled. 'Yes, I hadn't thought of that.'
'Well, I shouldn't worry,' said Inspector Craddock. 'You did quite right to come and tell me. I shall make inquiries, but it seems to me highly probable that there is no connection between the woman who wrote the letter (and who was probably trying to cash in on a swindle) and the woman whose body was found in the sarcophagus.'
Emma rose with a sigh of relief.
'I'm so glad I've told you. You've been very kind.'
Craddock accompanied her to the door.
Then he rang for Detective-Sergeant Wetherall.
'Bob, I've got a job for you. Go to 126 Elvers Crescent , No.10. Take photographs of the Rutherford Hall woman with you. See what you can find out about a woman calling herself Mrs. Crackenthorpe – Mrs. Martine Crackenthorpe, who was either living there, or calling for letters there, between the dates of, say, 15th to the end of December.'
'Right, sir.'
Craddock busied himself with various other matters that were waiting attention on his desk. In the afternoon he went to see a theatrical agent who was a friend of his. His inquiries were not fruitful.
Later in the day when he returned to his office he found a wire from Paris on his desk.
At last! So much, he thought, for the Martine Crackenthorpe hare… He decided to take the night ferry to Paris .
Chapter 13
I
