Alan Carstairs had been a friend of John Savage's. Mrs Rivington had had a vague idea that Carstairs' presence in England had something to do with the death of Savage. Savage had - what was it? - he had committed suicide because he thought he had cancer.
Supposing - supposing Alan Carstairs had not been satisfied with the account of his friend's death. Supposing he had come over to inquire into the whole thing? Supposing that here, in the circumstances surrounding Savage's death - was the first act of the drama that she and Bobby were acting in.
'It's possible,' thought Frankie. 'Yes, it's possible.' She thought deeply, wondering how best to attack this new phase of the matter. She had no idea as to who had been John Savage's friends or intimates.
Then an idea struck her - his will. If there had been something suspicious about the way he met his death, his will would give a possible clue.
Somewhere in London, Frankie knew, was a place where you went and read wills if you paid a shilling. But she couldn't remember where it was.
The train drew up at a station and Frankie saw that it was the British Museum. She had overshot Oxford Circus, where she meant to have changed, by two stations.
She jumped up and left the train. As she emerged into the street an idea came to her. Five minutes' walk brought her to the office of Messrs. Spragge, Spragge, Jenkinson & Spragge.
Frankie was received with deference and was at once ushered into the private fastness of Mr Spragge, the senior member of the firm.
Mr Spragge was exceedingly genial. He had a rich mellow persuasive voice which his aristocratic clients had found extremely soothing when they had come to him to be extricated from some mess. It was rumoured that Mr Spragge knew more discreditable secrets about noble families than any other man in London.
'This is a pleasure indeed. Lady Frances,' said Mr Spragge.
'Do sit down. Now are you sure that chair is quite comfortable?
Yes, yes. The weather is very delightful just now, is it not? A St Martin's summer. And how is Lord Marchington? Well, I trust?' Frankie answered these and other inquiries in a suitable manner.
Then Mr Spragge removed his pince-nez from his nose and became more definitely the legal guide and adviser.
'And now. Lady Frances,' he said. 'What is it gives me the pleasure of seeing you in my - hm - dingy office this afternoon?' 'Blackmail?' said his eyebrows. 'Indiscreet letters? An entanglement with an undesirable young man? Sued by your dressmaker?' But the eyebrows asked these questions in a very discreet manner as befitted a solicitor of Mr Spragge's experience and income.
'I want to look at a will,' said Frankie. 'And I don't know where you go and what you do. But there is somewhere you can pay a shilling, isn't there?' 'Somerset House,' said Mr Spragge. 'But what will is it? I think I can possibly tell you anything you want to know about - er - wills in your family. I may say that I believe our firm has had the honour of drawing them up for many years past.' 'It isn't a family will,' said Frankie.
'No?' said Mr Spragge.
And so strong was his almost hypnotic power of drawing confidences out of his clients that Frankie, who had not meant to do so, succumbed to the manner and told him.
'I wanted to see the will of Mr Savage - John Savage.' 'In-deed?' A very real astonishment showed in Mr Spragge's voice. He had not expected this. 'Now that is very extraordinary - very extraordinary indeed.' There was something so unusual in his voice that Frankie looked at him in surprise.
'Really,' said Mr Spragge. 'Really, I do not know what to do.
Perhaps, Lady Frances, you can give me your reasons for wanting to see that will?' 'No,' said Frankie slowly. 'I'm afraid I can't.' It struck her that Mr Spragge was, for some reason, behaving quite unlike his usual benign omniscient self. He looked actually worried.
'I really believe,' said Mr Spragge, 'that I ought to warn you.' 'Warn me?' said Frankie.
'Yes. The indications are vague, very vague - but clearly there is something afoot. I would not, for the world, have you involved in any questionable business.' As far as that went, Frankie could have told him that she was already involved up to the neck in a business of which he would have decidedly disapproved. But she merely stared at him inquiringly.
'The whole thing is rather an extraordinary coincidence,' Mr Spragge was going on. 'Something is clearly afoot - clearly. But what it is I am not at present at liberty to say.' Frankie continued to look inquiring.
'A piece of information has just come to my knowledge,' continued Mr Spragge. His chest swelled with indignation. 'I have been impersonated. Lady Frances. Deliberately impersonated.
What do you say to that?' But for just one panic-stricken minute Frankie could say nothing at all.
CHAPTER 25 Mr Spragge Talks
At last she stammered: 'How did you find out?' It was not at all what she meant to say. She could, in fact, have bitten out her tongue for stupidity a moment later, but the words had been said, and Mr Spragge would have been no lawyer had he failed to perceive that they contained an admission.
'So you know something of this business. Lady Frances?' 'Yes,' said Frankie.
She paused, drew a deep breath and said: 'The whole thing is really my doing, Mr Spragge.' 'I am amazed,' said Mr Spragge.
There was a struggle in his voice, the outraged lawyer was at war with the fatherly family solicitor.
'How did this come about?' he asked.
'It was just a joke,' said Frankie weakly. 'We - we wanted something to do.' 'And who,' demanded Mr Spragge, 'had the idea of passing himself off as Me?' Frankie looked at him, her wits working once more, made a rapid decision.
'It was the young Duke of No -' She broke off. 'I really mustn't mention names. It isn't fair.' 'Somerset House,' said Mr Spragge. 'But what will is it? I think I can possibly tell you anything you want to know about - er - wills in your family. I may say that I believe our firm has had the honour of drawing them up for many years past.' 'It isn't a family will,' said Frankie.
'No?' said Mr Spragge.
And so strong was his almost hypnotic power of drawing confidences out of his clients that Frankie, who had not meant to do so, succumbed to the manner and told him.
'I wanted to see the will of Mr Savage - John Savage.' 'In-deed?' A very real astonishment showed in Mr Spragge's voice. He had not expected this. 'Now that is very extraordinary - very extraordinary indeed.' There was something so unusual in his voice that Frankie looked at him in surprise.
'Really,' said Mr Spragge. 'Really, I do not know what to do.
Perhaps, Lady Frances, you can give me your reasons for wanting to see that will?' 'No,' said Frankie slowly. 'I'm afraid I can't.' It struck her that Mr Spragge was, for some reason, behaving quite unlike his usual benign omniscient self. He looked actually worried.
'I really believe,' said Mr Spragge, 'that I ought to warn you.' 'Warn me?' said Frankie.
'Yes. The indications are vague, very vague - but clearly there is something afoot. I would not, for the world, have you involved in any questionable business.' As far as that went, Frankie could have told him that she was already involved up to the neck in a business of which he would have decidedly disapproved. But she merely stared at him inquiringly.
'The whole thing is rather an extraordinary coincidence,' Mr Spragge was going on. 'Something is clearly afoot - clearly. But what it is I am not at present at liberty to say.' Frankie continued to look inquiring.
'A piece of information has just come to my knowledge,' continued Mr Spragge. His chest swelled with indignation. 'I have been impersonated. Lady Frances. Deliberately impersonated.
What do you say to that?' But for just one panic-stricken minute Frankie could say nothing at all.
CHAPTER 25 Mr Spragge Talks
At last she stammered: 'How did you find out?' It was not at all what she meant to say. She could, in fact, have bitten out her tongue for stupidity a moment later, but the words had been said, and Mr Spragge would have been no lawyer had he failed to perceive that they contained an admission.
'So you know something of this business. Lady Frances?' 'Yes,' said Frankie.
She paused, drew a deep breath and said: 'The whole thing is really my doing, Mr Spragge.' 'I am amazed,' said Mr Spragge.
There was a struggle in his voice, the outraged lawyer was at war with the fatherly family solicitor.
'How did this come about?' he asked.
'It was just a joke,' said Frankie weakly. 'We - we wanted something to do.' 'And who,' demanded Mr Spragge, 'had the idea of passing himself off as Me?' Frankie looked at him, her wits working once more, made a rapid decision.
