Why Didn't They Ask Evans

by Agatha Christie

  As far as tracing the Caymans was concerned, she had drawn a blank.

  She consoled herself with the reflection that this was only to be expected. If Mr and Mrs Cayman were associated with the wrong side of the law they would take particularly good care that no one should be able to trace them. It was at least a kind of negative confirmatory evidence.

  Still Frankie felt definitely disappointed as she handed back the keys to the house agents and uttered mendacious statements as to communicating with them in a few days.

  She walked down towards the Park feeling rather depressed and wondered what on earth she was going to do next. These fruitless meditations were interrupted by a sharp and violent squall of rain. No taxi was in sight and Frankie hurriedly preserved a favourite hat by hurrying into the tube which was close at hand. She took a ticket to Piccadilly Circus and bought a couple of papers at the bookstall.

  When she had entered the train - almost empty at this time of day - she resolutely banished thoughts of the vexing problem and, opening her paper, strove to concentrate her attention on its contents.

  She read desultory snippets here and there.

  Number of road deaths. Mysterious disappearance of a schoolgirl. Lady Peterhampton's party at Claridge's. Sir John Milkington's convalescence after his accident yachting - the Astradora - the famous yacht which had belonged to the late Mr John Savage, the millionaire. Was she an unlucky boat?

  The man who had designed her had met with a tragic death Mr Savage had committed suicide - Sir John Milkington had just escaped death by a miracle.

  Frankie lowered the paper, frowning in an effort of remembrance.

  Twice before, the name of Mr John Savage had been mentioned - once by Sylvia Bassington-ffrench when she was speaking of Alan Carstairs, and once by Bobby when he was repeating the conversation he had had with Mrs Rivington.

  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, succum
bed 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.' But she knew that the tide had turned in her favour. It was doubtful if Mr Spragge could have forgiven a mere vicar's son such audacity, but his weakness for noble names led him to look softly on the impertinences of a duke. His benign manner returned.

  'Oh! you Bright Young People - You Bright Young People,' he murmured, wagging a forefinger. 'What trouble you land yourselves in. You would be surprised. Lady Frances, at the amount of legal complication that may ensue from an apparently harmless practical joke determined upon on the spur of the moment. Just high spirits - but sometimes extremely difficult to settle out of court.' 'I think you're too marvellous, Mr Spragge,' said Frankie earnestly. 'I do, really. Not one person in a thousand would have taken it as you have done. I feel really terribly ashamed.' 'No, no. Lady Frances,' said Mr Spragge paternally.

  'Oh, but I do. I suppose it was the Rivington woman - what exactly did she tell you?' 'I think I have the letter here. I opened it only half an hour ago.' Frankie held out a hand and Mr Spragge put the letter into it with the air of one saying: 'There, see for yourself what your foolishness has led you into.' Dear Mr Spragge (Mrs Rivington had written). It's really too stupid of me, but I've just remembered something that might have helped you the day you called on me. Alan Car stairs mentioned that he was going to a place called Chipping Somerton. I don't know whether this will be any help to you.

  I was so interested in what you told me about the Maltravers case. With kind regards, Yours sincerely, Edith Rivington.

  'You can see that the matter might have been very grave,' said Mr Spragge severely, but with a severity tempered by benevolence. 'I took it that some extremely questionable business was afoot. Whether connected with the Maltravers case or with my client, Mr Carstairs -' Frankie interrupted him.

  'Was Alan Carstairs a client of yours?' she inquired excitedly.

  'He was. He consulted me when he was last in England a month ago. You know Mr Carstairs, Lady Frances?' 'I think I may say I do,' said Frankie.

  'A most attractive personality,' said Mr Spragge. 'He brought quite a breath of the - er - wide open spaces into my office.' 'He came to consult you about Mr Savage's will, didn't he?' said Frankie.

  'Ah!' said Mr Spragge. 'So it was you who advised him to come to me? He couldn't remember just who it was. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for him.' 'Just what did you advise him to do?' asked Frankie. 'Or would it be unprofessional to tell me?' 'Not in this case,' said Mr Spragge smiling. 'My opinion was that there was nothing to be done - nothing, that is, unless Mr Savage's relatives were prepared to spend a lot of money on fighting the case - which I gather they were not prepared, or indeed in a position, to do. I never advise bringing a case into court unless there is every hope of success. The law. Lady Frances, is an uncertain animal. It has twists and turns that surprise the non-legal mind. Settle out of court has always been my motto.' 'The whole thing was very curious,' said Frankie thoughtfully.

  She had a little of the sensation of walking barefoot over a floor covered with tin tacks. At any minute she might step on one - and the game would be up.

  'Such cases are less uncommon than you might think,' said Mr Spragge.

  'Cases of suicide?' inquired Frankie.

  'No, no, I meant cases of undue influence. Mr Savage was a hard-headed business man, and yet he was clearly as wax in this woman's hands. I've no doubt she knew her business thoroughly.' 'I wish you'd tell me the whole story properly,' said Frankie boldly. 'Mr Carstairs was - well, was so heated, that I never seemed to get the thing clearly.' 'The case was extremely simple,' said Mr Spragge. 'I can run over the facts to you - they are accessible to everyone - so there is no objection to my doing so.' 'Then tell me all about it,' said Frankie.

  'Mr Savage happened to be travelling back from the United States to England in November of last year. He was, as you know, an extremely wealthy man with no near relations. On this voyage he made the acquaintance of a certain lady - a - er - Mrs Templeton. Nothing much is known about Mrs Templeton except that she was a very good-looking woman and had a husband somewhere conveniently in the background.' 'The Caymans,' thought Frankie.

  'These ocean trips are dangerous,' went on Mr Spragge, smiling and shaking his head. 'Mr Savage was clearly very much attracted. He accepted the lady's invitation to come down and stay at her little cottage at Chipping Somerton.

  Exactly how often he went there I have not been able to ascertain, but there is no doubt that he came more and more under this Mrs Templeton's influence.

  'Then came the tragedy. Mr Savage had for some time been uneasy about his state of health. He feared that he might be suffering from a certain disease ' 'Cancer?' said Frankie.

  'Well, yes, as a matter of fact, cancer. The subject became quite an obsession with him. He was staying with the Templetons at the time. They persuaded him to go up to London and consult a specialist. He did so. Now here. Lady Frances, I preserve an open mind. That specialist - a very distinguished man who has been at the top of his profession for many years - swore at the inquest that Mr Savage was not suffering from cancer and that he had told him so, but that Mr Savage was so obsessed by his own belief that he could not accept the truth when he was told it. Now, strictly without prejudice. Lady Frances, and knowing the medical profession, I think things may have gone a little differently.

  'If Mr Savage's symptoms puzzled the doctor he may have spoken seriously, pulled a long face, spoken of certain expensive treatments and while r
eassuring him as to cancer yet have conveyed the impression that something was seriously wrong.

  Mr Savage, having heard that doctors usually conceal from a patient the fact that he is suffering from that disease, would interpret this according to his own lights. The doctor's reassuring words were not true - he had got the disease he thought he had.

  'Anyway, Mr Savage came back to Chipping Somerton in a state of great mental distress. He saw ahead of him a painful and lingering death. I understand some members of his family had died of cancer and he determined not to go through what he had seen them suffer. He sent for a solicitor - a very reputable member of an eminently respectable firm - and the latter drew up a will there and then which Mr Savage signed and which he then delivered over to the solicitor for safe keeping. On that same evening Mr Savage took a large overdose of chloral, leaving a letter behind in which he explained that he preferred a quick and painless death to a long and painful one.

  'By his will Mr Savage left the sum of seven hundred thousand pounds free of legacy duty to Mrs Templeton and the remainder to certain specified charities.' Mr Spragge leaned back in his chair. He was now enjoying himself.

  'The jury brought in the usual sympathetic verdict of Suicide while of Unsound Mind, but I do not think that we can argue from that that he was necessarily of unsound mind when he made the will. I do not think that any jury would take it so.

  The will was made in the presence of a solicitor in whose opinion the deceased was undoubtedly sane and in possession of his senses. Nor do I think we can prove undue influence. Mr Savage did not disinherit anyone near and dear to him - his only relatives were distant cousins whom he seldom saw. They actually lived in Australia, I believe.' Mr Spragge paused.

  'Mr Carstairs' contention was that such a will was completely uncharacteristic of Mr Savage. Mr Savage had no liking for organized charities and had always held very strong opinions as to money passing by blood relationship. However, Mr Carstairs had no documentary proof of these assertions and, as I pointed out to him, men change their opinions. In contesting such a will, there would be the charitable organizations to deal with as well as Mrs Templeton. Also, the will had been admitted to probate.' 'There was no fuss made at the time?' asked Frankie.