It took a few moments to absorb this. It was a phenomenal sum. I would easily be able to save a hundred a year, and so could look forward to perhaps another four years afterwards without having to worry about money. Eleven years of blessed security, in all. What could she possibly want that would justify that sum? Whatever it was, I intended to do it. As long as it didn't involve too long a gaol sentence.
'You are aware, perhaps, that my husband, Lord Ravenscliff, died a fortnight ago?'
I nodded.
'It was a terrible accident – I still cannot believe it. However, it happened. And I must now live as a widow.'
Not for long, though, I bet, I thought to myself as I composed my face into an expression of suitable sympathy.
'Please accept my condolences for your loss,' I said piously.
She treated the conventional remark with the solemnity it deserved, which is to say that she ignored it totally.
'As you no doubt know, death is not merely an emotional matter for those who are bereaved. The law demands attention as well.'
'The police are involved?'
She looked very queerly at me. 'Of course not,' she replied. 'I mean that there is a will to be read, estates to be settled, bequests to be made.'
'Oh. Yes. I'm sorry.'
She paused for a long while after that little exchange; perhaps the calm presentation was more difficult for her than it appeared.
'We were married for nearly twenty years, Mr Braddock. In that time we were as happy and content as a couple can be. I hope you can appreciate that.'
'I'm sure of it,' I replied, wondering what this was all about.
'So you can realise that when I was read his will, which gave a substantial legacy to his child, I was surprised.'
'Were you?' I asked cautiously.
'We had no children.'
'Ah.'
'And so I wish you to discover the identity of this child, so that the terms of his will can—'
'Just a moment,' I said in a rush, holding up my hand. The small amount of information she'd given me had already generated so many questions that I was having difficulties holding all of them in my head at the same time.
'Just a moment,' I repeated more calmly. 'Can we go through this a little more slowly? First of all, why are you telling me this? I mean, why me? You know nothing about me.'
'Oh, I do. You come recommended.'
'Really? By whom?'
'By your editor. We have known him for some time. He said you were a fine ferreter out of other people's secrets. He also told me you could be discreet and, incidentally, told me how much you are paid.'
'There must be someone better than me.'
'That is modest of you. And do not think I have not considered the matter carefully. In fact, there are few people capable of performing such a task. Lawyers occasionally employ such people, but none I know of. There are investigative agencies, but I do not feel inclined to trust someone who does not come personally recommended. Besides, they might well require more information than I can provide. I do not know whether this child is alive, when he or she was born, who the mother was. I do not even know in which country it might have been born. There is just one sentence in his will.'
'And that's it? Nothing else at all?'
'Nothing at all.'
'What did the will say, exactly?'
She paused for a moment, and then recited. '"Conscious of my failings in so many matters, and wishing to make amends for past ills, I direct that the sum of £250,000 be left to my child, whom I have never previously acknowledged." So you see, it is not a small matter.' She looked at me evenly as she spoke.
I gaped. Money wasn't my speciality, but I knew a gigantic fortune when I lost track of the noughts dancing in my head.
'That's some failing,' I commented. She replied with a frosty look. 'Sorry.'
'I wish to honour my husband's will to the letter, if it is possible. I need to inform this person of the bequest. I cannot do that until I know who he, or she, is.'
'You really have no more information?'
She shook her head. 'The will referred to some papers in his safe. There were none there. At least, nothing of any relevance. I have looked several times.'
'But if your husband conducted an – ah –'
I really did not know at all how to manage this conversation. Even with women of my own social class it would have been impossible to ask directly – your husband had a mistress? When? Where? Who? With a lady in the first flush of mourning it was completely beyond my capabilities.
Luckily, she decided to help me out. I rather wished she hadn't, as it made me even more uncomfortable. 'I do not believe my husband was in the habit of taking lovers,' she said calmly. 'Certainly not in the last decade or so. Before then I know of no one, and there is no reason why I should not have known had any such person existed.'
'Why is that?'
