‘I did not! My daughter had made her bed with her eyes open. As far as I was concerned, she could lie in it. However, I must confess, there was one circumstance in which I might have been induced to change my attitude: if the marriage had produced a child. Naturally I could not have permitted a grandson of mine to be reared on a housing estate. A reconciliation would then have taken place. I am sure that my daughter and her husband both realized this and, I admit, I myself was counting on it. My daughter had to be taught a lesson but it was none-the-less embarrassing to have her living in comparative poverty in my town and practically on my doorstep. It would have gone very much against the grain to have accepted Perking as a member of my family but, for the sake of an heir, I would have made the sacrifice. I am not, thank God, a small-minded man.’
‘But there was no pattering of tiny feet, eh?’
‘None.’
‘Perhaps they weren’t trying?’
‘Oh, they were trying all right! As far as my daughter was concerned, the glamour of attempting to exist on fifteen pounds a week must have been getting very thin. She knew well enough that there was no hope of getting any more unless she presented me with a son. Her husband knew it, too. But, after three years, there wasn’t a sign. No one, I must admit, was more surprised than I was. Perking’s attraction for my daughter was a purely sexual one. The girl was completely infatuated with him. On the rare occasions I have encountered the pair of them together, both before and after the marriage, they have behaved to each other with an amorousness which I found frankly disgusting. In my opinion, the young whelp is impotent. I made the same observation to my daughter some months ago and suggested that she might care to investigate the possibilities of having the marriage annulled. She refused, of course. However, I am a patient man. The seed had been sown. I have no doubt that before long she would have been giving serious consideration to the step I had proposed.’
‘It’s not’, grumbled Dover, ‘giving him much in the way of a motive, is it? By killing your daughter this Perking fellow’s kissed a sweet goodbye to all hopes of fame and fortune, hasn’t he? So, why did he murder her?’
‘She may have threatened to get the marriage annulled.’
‘Got any reason for thinking she did?’
Mr Wibbley shook his head. ‘No, none. But I haven’t seen her for several weeks. Her attitude might have changed considerably in that time.’
Dover sighed. All the sandwiches had been consumed and even the whisky was getting a bit low in the decanter. He would dearly have loved to bring this remarkable session to an end, but that prerogative looked as though it belonged to Daniel Wibbley.
‘Is there a Mrs Wibbley?’ he asked miserably. Not that he cared but it showed that he was taking an interest.
‘We separated a couple of years after my daughter was born. My wife is a member of one of our chief local families - the Sinclairs. I married her for her connections in the county and because I was given to understand that she had considerable expectations. You see, I am prepared to be perfectly frank with you. There is no reason for not being. You are quite capable of discovering for yourself that my wife is thirteen years older than I am and has no interests or, indeed, conversation beyond the technicalities of breeding West Highland terriers. Naturally you would begin to wonder why I, or any other man for that matter, ever married her. Well, I have told you. Unfortunately the money which I thought would accompany her was, in the first place, considerably less than gossip had claimed and, in the second place, it was not at my wife’s disposal. Her uncle, Sir Quintin Sinclair, inherited not only the family title but virtually all the money as well. He was a bachelor, though, and enjoyed the most heartening ill-health. He was sixty-one at the time of my marriage and we were all hoping for his early decease when the money and the title would have passed to my wife’s father. However, my father-in-law died and Sir Quintin is still with us. He made my wife and her cousin, Ottilia, his heirs. This meant that the inheritance, when we got it, would be half what it should have been. But worse was to come. Both Ottilia and my wife eventually gave birth to daughters and the old fool immediately changed his will and made these two grand-nieces his joint heirs. Shortly after this idiotic proceeding my wife and I agreed to separate. We had really only remained together for as long as we did out of deference to Sir Quintin. As a confirmed bachelor he had some very romantic views about marriage. In any case, by this time my need of liquid capital had been satisfied in other quarters. Money from my wife’s family no longer had the least importance for me.’
Dover suppressed a yawn and blinked his eyes very rapidly in an attempt to stay awake. ‘So your daughter has got some money of her own, then?’
Mr Wibbley stared at him disdainfully. ‘No,’ he replied with exaggerated patience. ‘I thought I had already made it clear to you that she had not.’
‘But this inheritance from Sir What’s-his-name?’
‘Sir Quintin is still with us. Or, at least, I presume he is. His housekeeper would have been certain to inform me if he had died. He has been completely gaga for many years and is the strongest argument I know of for compulsory euthanasia.’
Dover frowned dejectedly. Enough was enough! How much longer was this chatter going on? There was one thing about Wibbley—he certainly liked the sound of his own voice. ‘Have you any more questions, Dover?’
Dover sighed.
