Текст книги "Ragtime in Simla"

Автор книги: Barbara Cleverly

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

‘And why did you find yourself on the Blue Train back to the south the year after the war ended?’

‘Obvious if you think for a moment! My lovers were dead or gone back to their homes to rebuild their lives. The world had changed for ever. There were many – genuine – widows in the market for a little love and protection (amateurs!), and the competition was fierce. I was again destitute. All I had left was my good clothes. I hadn’t even the money to pay for the services of a maid. I got a letter from an old friend who was recovering from war wounds in the south, in Nice. He asked me to join him. Even sent me a first class ticket.’

‘And then you met Alice Conyers?’

‘We were snaring a compartment. She had a great effect on me. So eager, so innocent, with everything to look forward to! She was not much younger than I was but there was a lifetime’s experience between us. She was on the brink of a new life with a fortune to come to her and a husband. And I – I felt as though I were at the end of my life, tired, disillusioned, used, knowing so much and having achieved so little. I envied her.’

‘So much that you stole her life?’

‘It wasn’t deliberate. It wasn’t thought out in any way. It was Fate, I do believe. An impulse. You have no idea what it feels like, or perhaps you have, Commander, to realize that you are the only one to have survived such a horror. Fate, you see, had led me to the ladies’ room seconds before the crash. That saved my life. It was a small space and well padded and carpeted. I rattled around, of course, but in the confines of that space I was much more protected than everyone else.’

She touched her face. ‘The mirror broke and sliced through my face, a few ribs were cracked and I sprained a wrist but really, I wasn’t as badly injured as I pretended to be. When I got free of the wreckage I stood and looked at the carnage. There was no one left alive but me. A baby was screaming for a while but then that too went silent. I should have been overwhelmed, distraught, but I wasn’t.’

She wrinkled her forehead, anxious to convey accurately her feelings. ‘I felt elated, powerful, chosen. I of all had survived and I could do whatever came into my head. I walked about and looked at my fellow passengers. Alice Conyers, pretty little Alice was dead. Minutes ago she had everything and now she was no more than a broken doll. What a waste of a life! But I didn’t steal her life, Joe. It was presented to me. I found it torn and shattered in a rock-strewn ravine. I picked it up. I put it on. It fitted. You know what Napoleon said? He said, “I didn’t usurp the throne. I found the crown of France in the gutter and picked it up on the point of my sword.” That’s what it was like for me.’

There was a very long pause in which it seemed to Joe she was wondering whether to proceed. At last she resumed and her voice had hardened. ‘You must realize that Alice Conyers was – nothing! A brainless little chatterbox. Completely without intelligence or experience. She had a certain amount of mouse-like charm but she was no more capable of running ICTC than a… a… spaniel! She could never have kept her feet in the shifting commercial politics of the firm. She would have married Reggie and been completely submerged by him. He would have milked the company and it would all have been a disaster.’

‘Why are you telling me all this, Isobel?’

‘Please – go on calling me Alice, won’t you – I’ve got used to it and you’ve made your point.’

‘All right then – Alice. I don’t know you very well…’

‘We could put that right, Joe.’ The invitation in her voice was unmistakable.

‘I don’t know you very well, Alice, but I do know this – that you’d never say or do anything without a purpose and just at the moment I’m wondering why you’ve told me all this. I wasn’t far behind you but I hadn’t got there.’

She turned to him with a frank smile. ‘Because I know and you know that there’s absolutely nowhere you can go with this information! Assuming you could find someone credulous enough to listen to your story, I would deny everything. But you’ve worked that out already, haven’t you?’

‘Oh, yes. There are many who would step forward to bear witness in your favour. There are many who depend for their livelihood on the continuing prosperity of ICTC. What would be their reaction if I were to attempt to clap you in handcuffs and remove you from the scene? And, anyway, what would be the charge? Would anyone thank me for being the instrument which put your husband Reggie in the driving seat? I don’t think so! There are many here in Simla who admire what you do. The only evidence against you is that of a semi-blind and badly injured fellow passenger who met you briefly three years ago. And even he’s not convinced he’s right. I wouldn’t put him on the witness stand. Your friends in high places would close ranks to preserve the status quo. You’re right – we both know this, so I’m asking you again, Alice – why are you confiding in me?’

She edged closer and sighed. ‘Because by finding out my identity you’ve put yourself in grave danger of assassination, Joe Sandilands. I have to warn you. And it’s important that you know the whole story to understand why.’

Wriggling gently under the jacket, she freed her right arm and carefully placed her revolver into his hand. ‘Here, take this. You have much more urgent need of it now than I. You know who I am but… you’re not the only one.’

She shivered again and turned anxious eyes, silver in the moonlight, to his, determined to make him understand the urgency of what she had to tell him.

‘Someone else in Simla knows. Someone in Simla has always known! And they’ll try to kill you now for the same reason they killed Lionel Conyers and Feodor Korsovsky.’

Chapter Seventeen

« ^ »

A chilling wind stirred the jasmine over their heads. Alice shook a shoulder free from the jacket and spread it over Joe’s back so that they were sharing the protection of the light tweed and sharing their body heat. Her arm slipped round his waist and Joe felt a thumb inserted into his waistband. He was disconcertingly aware as she snuggled closer that her softly curved body was pressing against him, aware also of her warm breath as she whispered urgently in his ear.

‘I’m telling you all this because I need help and I think you need help too. We may be able to do a deal. Let me tell you… When I’d been in India for nearly a year I came up to Simla. My first season here in the hot weather. ICTC had begun to turn round. Everybody knew it. I had a letter. The strangest letter! It said, “Dear Isobel.” And that was all! Literally all! Someone wanted me to know that they knew who I truly was.’

‘That must have given you the fright of your life!’

‘It was totally unnerving. Calculatedly unnerving. I was left in suspense for two weeks and then the follow-up came. It said, and I remember the words exactly, “Dear Isobel, You are playing a dangerous game and you are going to need protection. This I can provide. Protection will be total but it will not be free. I shall require four thousand rupees a year. I will tell you how this is to be paid.” And that was all.’

‘Four thousand rupees a year!’ said Joe, aghast. ‘That’s about what a senior Indian Civil Service official earns.’

‘Yes, it’s a lot of money but it was well calculated. It was a sum which I could without crippling difficulty raise and manage to lose in the books. Had it been substantially more there would have been a problem. But my correspondent was no fool; eager only to keep the golden goose alive, well and paying – paying well but not absurdly well.’

‘And how did you pay it? Surely it’s traceable?’

‘No. A very clever scheme. Totally untraceable. Simple and calculated not to raise the slightest suspicion. A note was delivered to the office. It told me to go along to the jewellers, Robertson. Do you know… ?’

‘Yes,’ Joe nodded. ‘I’ve seen his shop and met the proprietor. Are you telling me he’s crooked? I did wonder.’

‘You must decide for yourself when I’ve explained the scheme. He provides the perfect cover. I was told to take cash or a money order to the value of four thousand rupees but take jewellery to only half that value. That’s it. Twice a year, in April and October, I go to his shop and perform the transaction. If there are other customers present, and there sometimes are friends of mine in the shop, they simply see me take Robertson’s advice on a particular piece, and pay for it with a cheque. All above board, you see. Sometimes I come away with a Burmese ruby, a choice opal, a large star sapphire. That’s all I know. What Robertson does with the other half I have no idea.’

‘Do you think he might be the one who’s blackmailing you?’

‘No. I have a feeling that he’s just a channel for this exchange – I don’t think he knows what’s going on.’

‘And what do you do with the jewellery? With your half of the Danegeld?’

She gave a mischievous smile. ‘I’ve kept it. Every piece. It’s in a safe place. Through these Simla years I’ve been living quite dangerously in fear of being found out at any moment. Working hard relieved the pressure. It took my mind off the threat. In a way I suppose it gave me an extra incentive to make the firm as successful as I could in as short a time as I could. Never quite knowing when it would come to an end.’

‘I see,’ said Joe, making no attempt to keep a mounting admiration out of his voice. ‘A little running-away fund?’

‘A big running-away fund. And getting bigger every year. Gems can cross borders so easily and I can sell them anywhere, no questions asked. They’re the international currency in these parts. Much more reliable and acceptable than paper currency. But one day I got a letter from Lionel Conyers. My “brother”, if you please! I knew a good deal about him from Alice’s diary. I knew that he was seven years older than her; I knew she didn’t like him, perhaps was even a bit afraid of him. It seemed they hardly knew each other – hadn’t seen each other for years. I turned this way and that! Risk it with the unknown Lionel? Could I ever deceive him? Play the game of “do you remember?” In the end I decided to perfect my arrangements for a sudden and discreet (and by no means empty-handed!) disappearance but to leave this till the very last minute, arguing to myself that anything could happen. I was right. In India anything could and something did! Poor Lionel! I was taken to identify the body. He was rather a mess. He’d been shot through the head. But, I’ll tell you, Joe, I was so bloody relieved I had no problem in giving him a sisterly kiss.’

She was silent for a moment as if daring Joe to comment and then, ‘Bystanders were much affected by this, I’m told. Many shed a tear and so did I! Do you wonder I thought myself invincible? Fate again, you see! But I was very confused. Fate this time had had an instrument. I couldn’t understand why or who… though I had an awful suspicion. Then the day after Lionel’s funeral a letter arrived at the office. “Dear Isobel, Danger averted. In gratitude for extra protection pay three thousand rupees.” ’

‘A one-off payment?’

She nodded. ‘A substantial sum, you see, but just possible.’

‘And what about Korsovsky? Have your protectors communicated with you about his death?’

‘No. Not yet. I found out about his theatre booking last November when it was all arranged and was very alarmed, as you might guess. He would obviously identify me the minute he set eyes on me but I knew Feodor wouldn’t give me away if he was forewarned. Or even if not forewarned. One look, one wink across the heads of the crowd would have been enough! He had a rascally sense of humour and he would have relished the situation. I really loved him, Joe. Once…’ Her voice trailed away but she shook off her memories and her voice hardened. ‘My bloody protection squad! Keeping me here like a milk cow! I feel trapped, Joe! Under surveillance the whole time! But by whom?’

‘Well, it has to be somebody who knows Isobel Newton rather than Alice Conyers if you think about it,’ said Joe. ‘Anyone who was familiar with Alice would know that her brother would unmask you but they wouldn’t know about the Korsovsky danger unless they knew Isobel from her past. And from her relatively recent past. It has to be someone who knew you in the days when you lived in France. Your gallery of old lovers? Has one of them surfaced in Simla?’

‘A desperately depleted band! Not one. I check the arrivals list every day. You know that everyone arriving in Simla has to give their name and business… it’s easy to get access to it – you could say it’s almost a social register.’

‘An old school friend?’

‘I haven’t recognized anyone. And don’t forget, Joe, that anyone who knew me – Isobel – from my schooldays would remember the sixteen-year-old that I was when I left for France. I look and am a very different person.’

‘Someone then who was close to you at the time of the accident, before, as it were, you had had time to slip into the role and play it as confidently as you do now?’

‘Marie-Jeanne, you mean? Yes, I had considered that. I’ve replayed every word we exchanged in those first days over and over and I’m quite certain that I gave nothing away. I spoke entirely in English, I appeared to know who I was… I gave a very convincing account of myself. When they left me alone to sleep I used to get out my… Alice’s… diary and learn up her life for the previous five years.’ Isobel rolled her eyes. ‘My God! It didn’t take long to learn! My own would have filled ten volumes! And then there was the leather folder…’

‘Containing the Company details?’

‘Yes, that one. Now that held far more interest for me. Even then I began to understand and unravel the Company. Certain executive gentlemen were about to be catapulted into early retirement even before I’d left Marseilles!’

‘So, as far as Marie-Jeanne was concerned, you didn’t falter or hesitate?’

‘No. It would have been easy enough to blame any aberration, any loss of memory on the accident, but I never needed to do that.’

‘She did notice one odd thing, though.’

Isobel looked at him in surprise and alarm.

‘Your green silk underwear. She thought it very strange that a soberly clad English girl would be wearing such glamorous underpinnings. Indulgently, she put it down to girlish rebellion. A hasty purchase made in Paris. Cocking a surreptitious snook at your travelling chaperone. “It made me like her a lot,” she said. ’

Isobel smiled and nodded. ‘Marie-Jeanne would put that interpretation on it. She is very generous-minded and fond of me, I do believe.’

‘Fond enough to protect your identity if it were known to her?’

‘Yes, I don’t doubt that for a moment. But she would never blackmail me. If she wanted money she would only have to ask me. She knows that. But she does not ask. She is doing very well on her own account and has turned out to be a natural businesswoman. Marie-Jeanne is very… upright, very religious. Though not religious enough to please her parents, I’m afraid. Landed gentry, petty-minded, rigid people who didn’t understand her at all. She was plain and large and the only girl among five brothers. No concessions were made for her sex – she was brought up as a boy, hunting, shooting and fighting and praying for forgiveness for all these activities on Sundays. One day they noticed that she had matured, was by no means attractive enough to be a good marriage prospect, and suggested the only thing that came into their hidebound minds – that she should become a nun. Very respectable way of getting rid of an unwanted daughter in France even in these days. She refused but placated them by offering her services in another cause dear to their hearts – the army. She became a nurse. And some years later she met me in hospital in Beaune.’

‘And everything changed for her,’ said Joe thoughtfully. ‘She’s leading a life which quite obviously suits her, a life which would come to an end perhaps if her patron, her protector, her friend, were disgraced. If the money that had launched her in business were proved to be fraudulently obtained?’

‘What depths of suspicion your mind is capable of plumbing!’

‘It helps to keep me alive.’

‘Well, you’re going to need to suspect everyone in Simla if you’re to get out of this town without a bullet in your hide, Commander. I mean that! Trust no one! Well, perhaps you may turn your back on the excellent Mrs Carter but no one else.’ She was silent for a moment and then added, ‘And Captain Simpson – surely his life would be at risk too if my watcher, my enemy were to realize the significance of his visit to Simla?’

‘We’ve kept his appearance very quiet. No one other than ourselves knows who he is, and be assured that Carter has him under constant watch.’

‘Are you going to tell me how on earth you managed to find him? Where did he spring from? Was he always aware…?’

‘Oh yes, he knew but the truth was so extraordinary, so unpalatable he assumed his brain was playing tricks on him. We found his name listed as a survivor in a newspaper Korsovsky carried in his luggage.’

‘A newspaper? What newspaper? Why did Feodor have a copy?’ Alice’s voice was suddenly sharp with suspicion. Joe explained that her swift departure to India had preceded the publication of the finalized list of the dead and the survivors and that Feodor had been sent a copy by his agent largely in evidence of Isobel’s reported death.

‘He must have been more fond of me than I had allowed,’ was her sad comment. ‘But tell me, Joe, this newspaper… where is it now? May I see a copy? Would that be possible? I should be very interested to read an account of my death.’

‘Carter has it,’ Joe said, ‘at the station. I can’t see any reason why he wouldn’t let you see it if you really wanted to.’ He replied cheerfully enough but something about her tone and the barely hidden anxiety underlying it was ringing warning bells. There was more to her eagerness to read the account than mere curiosity, he thought.

‘Look, Alice, if you do go to see Carter be discreet. I think for everyone’s security it would be best if we all went on as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened tonight…’

‘You’re joking! The scene at the seance will be doing the rounds of the coffee houses and drawing rooms tomorrow!’

‘You said yourself when I chased you up here – anyone would have fled. Miss Trollope even fainted and disappeared under the table. Some of the others looked completely horror-stricken, I recall. If Carter and I refrain from hauling you off up the Mall in manacles and continue to treat you with sycophantic deference and call you Mrs Conyers-Sharpe in public places, I think you’ll find there’s been no harm done and no suspicions raised. We can leave Minerva Freemantle to come up with a convincing story to cover the apparition – that’s right up her street. She’ll probably find her client list has doubled once the sensation-seekers get hold of this!’

Isobel nodded her agreement.

‘But don’t get excited,’ he began, and then continued awkwardly, ‘I’m making no promises. You’ll be aware, of course, that I have no authority here in Simla and the decision as to whether to reveal your fraud and to whom rests with others who will, doubtless, take the appropriate action.’ Joe paused, aware that the pompous and semi-official phrases contrasted absurdly with his situation. The girl in his arms was aware of it too. Hard little fingers nipped him sharply in the side.

‘So – confide in me, Joe! I think you’ll agree I have an interest. What are you going to do?’ She sighed and rubbed her head against his shoulder.

‘Find out who’s blackmailing you, track him down and we’ll have found our murderer.’

‘Do you think you can do in three days what I’ve been unable to do in three years? I have made my own enquiries, you know. Discreetly of course. Rheza Khan is in my confidence, has always been in my confidence, and our combined efforts have been fruitless.’

‘Well, at least we’ll have the full resources of the law at our disposal – Scotland Yard’s finest, Simla’s specials and the incomparable Sir George Jardine – that’s quite a line-up of talent, you know!’ Joe spoke lightly and reassuringly. ‘But – I have to know, Alice – to what extent is Rheza Khan in your confidence?’

‘I told him why I was being blackmailed when the first demand note arrived. That I had assumed Alice’s identity, that is. It was a risk but I had to trust someone. And I’ve never regretted it for a moment. He asks no questions – he never has. He’s a Pathan, you know: natural conspirators, perhaps the best in the world. Over and over again he’s shown me that I can trust him. He knows I’m not who I claim to be but he is content with that.’ She stirred uncomfortably. ‘Joe, I haven’t told him all that I have told you about my past. He doesn’t know about my… my career in France. He doesn’t know about Korsovsky and all that.’

‘Well, he won’t hear about it from me. None of my business.’

‘I wouldn’t like him to find out. I would prefer to keep his respect. And I’m sure that at the moment I have that. He gives me discreet and unstinting help. He arranged to cover the outgoing sums of money. He covered it easily. The regularity and consistency of the leakage made it easy apparently. He runs the finances of the firm and I think he just invented other phantom employees with credible salaries. He’s not concerned about who I am. I arrived in India with complete authority and I used it. To good effect. He accepts me and would do much, I believe, to ensure that…’ Her voice trailed away and she looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, ‘He has my complete trust.’

The moonlight filtering through the moving branches lit up and concealed her features by turns, reflecting her uncertainty. Joe looked with pity at the lovely, defenceless face. Who was she able truly to trust? he wondered. Who had she ever been able to trust? Used, deceived, passed from man to man and ending up literally in the arms of the law. In the sheltering arms of a man who was far from being her protector, a man who threatened her liberty and perhaps her life. And yet he recognized that he was feeling a deep urge to protect her, to keep her safe from her enemy. Time to move on.

He rose and pulled her to her feet, tucking her revolver into his pocket. ‘It’s getting late. I’ll escort you back to the Mall and you can pick up your rickshaw. If we stay away together any longer there’ll be much worse rumours circulating in Simla tomorrow.’ He steered her towards the staircase. ‘And as we go, I’ll tell you how you can help us with this next bit.’

Joe extended a hand to steady Alice as she stepped into her rickshaw and, swept by an impulse, stood, her hand in his, and by a further impulse stooped and raised it to his lips and kissed it. They stood for a moment looking at each other in silence.

‘Joe,’ Alice breathed, ‘I wish I knew a bit more about you. You know everything there is to know about me and I know nothing, nothing whatever about you. That’s strange.’

‘There’s nothing to know really,’ said Joe. ‘I’m very pedestrian.’

Alice looked at him, considering, for a moment. ‘That’s the impression you try to give but I think there’s more to it than that.’ And then in a low voice she called to the rickshaw men to proceed.

Creaking, with the patter of running feet and the tinkle of warning bells, the rickshaw set off down the curving road, leaving Joe watching it and her disappear. ‘You know all there is to know about me,’ she had said. Not true, thought Joe. The rest of my life wouldn’t be long enough to find out all there is to know about that very remarkable, very complex and, let me admit it to myself, that very seductive girl. What’s that charge that’s sometimes levied? ‘Interfering with a witness’? That’s one witness with whom I would so happily interfere!

He turned to go on his way but out of the shadow there came a gently mocking voice. ‘ “Oh, what can ail thee, Knight at Arms, alone and palely loitering?” ’

Charlie Carter stepped into the dim street light. ‘Loitering, Commander? Loitering with intent to commit a felony?’

Joe was quite extraordinarily pleased to see him and said so. ‘Though how the hell you knew where I was I don’t suppose you’ll ever tell me!’

‘Oh, it’s not difficult! I picked up your trail after the seance. So did Alice’s rickshaw men, a couple of pi-dogs joined in the chase, “and after them, the parson ran, the sexton and the squire”. The whole of Simla’s agog by now, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Well, whatever,’ said Joe, ‘I’m devilish pleased to see you! And I’ll tell you – I could really do with a drink. It’s been quite an evening one way and another!’

‘Funny you should say that – that is exactly what Sir George said to me. Indeed, I’m under orders to bring you to him and if it’s a drink you want I can think of nowhere you’ll get a better one. We’ll walk, shall we? Clear the brain and you can run through some of the highlights of your tête-à-tête with Alice.’

When they reached the Residence lights were burning and servants moving about.

‘Sir George has had a dinner party this evening and it’s only just dispersing,’ said Charlie. ‘There, look, that’s the last carriage moving off now. Step in here with me.’

They turned together and went in through a side door. They were greeted by Sir George in white tie and decorations. It had evidently been a formal occasion.

‘Flawless timing!’ came his booming voice. ‘Trust Scotland Yard! Been waiting for you. Didn’t know quite where you were or what you were up to. Come in here – we’ll go into the library. Now, what can I offer you? Coffee? Of course. Brandy? Brandy for heroes, you know and here we are, three heroes in a row.’

He clapped his hands and shouted, and almost before he had done so glasses and a decanter appeared and a tall silver coffee pot.

‘Now,’ said George when they were seated, ‘I’ve heard about the seance. Quite fascinating! Most irregular! Can’t imagine how you got Charlie Carter to co-operate in your nefarious scheme but it seems to have produced a result. And now I want to know – what happened next? It is known that you disappeared into the night with the attractive Mrs Conyers-Sharpe but more than that is not known beyond the fact that you spent an unconscionable length of time hiding, I might almost say canoodling, in an unfrequented garden. And I dare say you exchanged more than words! Set your mind at rest, however – I’m only interested in the words! Whatever else passed – ’

‘George!’ said Joe. ‘For God’s sake! Don’t let your imagination run away with you! But it is true – I have a lot to tell you.’

‘Well,’ said George, ‘I won’t say “the night is young” because it isn’t very, but here we are and we are at your service.’

Joe sipped from the proffered glass, lit the proffered cigar, crossed his legs, lay back in the cushioned armchair and collected his thoughts. ‘Firstly,’ he began, ‘it is admitted to me, though not necessarily or even probably to anybody else, that, incredible as it may seem, there was a switch. She whom we have known as Alice Conyers, whom I shall always think of as Alice Conyers, is in fact Isobel Newton otherwise known as Isabelle de Neuville.’ And he explained the events of the Beaune rail crash. His audience listened spellbound.

‘That,’ said George, ‘is the most incredible story I have ever heard!’ And to Charlie, ‘Did you have even the remotest suspicion?’

‘Never,’ said Charlie. ‘Never in a thousand years. In fact, were it not from her own lips I wouldn’t believe it now. Not sure I do believe it.’

‘Secondly,’ Joe continued, ‘Alice is being blackmailed. By someone or some people, male or female, Indian or English, who know and have known for three years her true identity. And she has paid. The blackmailers are desperate to keep her in place and will do anything including murder to do so. It’s absolutely true – find the blackmailer and we’ve found our murderer.’

Joe explained the system whereby payments were passed through Robertson. ‘And all we have to do is intercept the next payment. I’ve told Alice to carry on as though nothing has happened. If we all do this, the blackmailer will assume we are unaware of the switch. Now could be our moment to close in. It’s likely if he or they conform to pattern, and so far the behaviour has been very consistent, that a demand will soon be made for the removal of Korsovsky. We must lean heavily on Robertson, extract everything he knows and make him cooperate.’

‘You make it sound so easy,’ said Charlie.

‘I’m not deceived,’ said George. ‘I understand the problems. If we could prove it – and that’s not as straightforward as it might seem at first sight – we could bring an action for fraud against Alice but as far as the further investigations are concerned, what would be the advantage of that? None, as I believe. If the blackmailer realizes his game is up then he’ll disappear.’

‘So you’re intending no move against Alice?’ said Charlie, a note of indignation creeping into his voice.

‘I didn’t say that,’ said George. ‘But I’m certainly not going to act precipitately. But I particularly ask you, Joe, Carter, to treat Alice’s revelations in confidence between the three of us for the moment. This is a situation which bristles with complexity – criminal complexity, legal complexity. Indeed, just to start the ball rolling, answer me this – who has Alice (I’ll go on calling her Alice) defrauded?’

‘Well,’ said Joe, who had been asking himself the same question, ‘I conclude that she has defrauded real Alice, little Alice. Little Alice is dead so she has defrauded little Alice’s heirs at law whoever they might be and little Alice’s heir at law would, I suppose, be her brother Lionel and Lionel is dead so who do we come down to? Well, you may be surprised to learn that as far as I can work it out we come down to Reggie. No longer her husband of course but the joint inheritor from real Alice’s grandfather’s will. She fraudulently made off with fifty-one per cent of ICTC which would otherwise have reverted to him. At least I suppose that’s right?’ he concluded dubiously.