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When Mr Hale had finished explaining the exact legal position of an illegitimate daughter whose father had died intestate, Miss Standing’s eyes were round with indignation.

‘I never heard anything so frightfully unjust in all my life,’ she said firmly.

‘I’m afraid that doesn’t alter the law.’

‘What’s the good of women having the vote then? I thought all those frightful unjust laws were going to be altered at once when women get the vote. Miss Clay always said so.’

Mr Hale had never heard of Miss Clay, who was in fact an undermistress at Mme Mardon’s. He himself had always been opposed to women’s suffrage.

‘Do you mean to say’—Miss Standing sat bolt upright with her plump hands clasped on her blue serge knee—‘do you actually mean to say that I don’t get anything?’

‘You are not legally entitled to anything.’

‘How absolutely disgraceful! Do you mean to say that Papa had millions and millions, and I don’t get any of it at all? Who gets it if I don’t? I suppose somebody does get it. Or does Government just steal it all?’

‘Your cousin, Mr Egbert Standing, is the heir-at-law. He will—er—doubtless consider the propriety of making you an allowance.’

Miss Standing sprang to her feet.

‘Egbert! You’re joking—you must be joking!’

Mr Hale looked the offence which he felt.

‘Really, Miss Standing!’

Margot stamped her foot.

‘I don’t believe a single word of it. Papa didn’t even like Egbert. He said he was a parasite. I remember quite well, because I didn’t know what the word meant, and I asked him, and he made me look it up in the dictionary. And he said he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve having Egbert for a nephew. He said it was a great pity someone hadn’t drowned his brother Robert when he was a baby, because then he couldn’t have had Egbert. That’s what Papa said, and do you suppose he’d want his money, and all his things, and his pictures to go to someone he felt like that about? Papa simply adored those horrible gloomy pictures, and he’d hate Egbert to have them. Egbert adores them too—I can’t think why—and that used to make Papa angrier than anything else. Aren’t people funny?’

When Mr Hale had taken his leave, Margot continued her letter to Stephanie.

Oh, Stephanie, he’s been! Mr Hale, the lawyer, I mean. He’s the most frightful old stiff, with the sort of boring voice that makes you go to sleep in church when a parson has it. Only I didn’t go to sleep, because he was saying the most frightfully devastating sort of things. There are a whole heap of the most frightful family secrets, and he says he thinks I’m illegitimate like the people in history. And I didn’t know anyone ever was except in history books. But he says he thinks I am, because he doesn’t think my father was ever married to my mother. And I don’t understand about it, but he says there isn’t any certificate of their being married, and there isn’t any certificate of my being born. And doesn’t that just show how stupid the whole thing is? Because if I hadn’t been born, I shouldn’t be here. So I can’t see what on earth anyone wants a certificate for. And he says I shan’t have any money ...

Mr Hale returned to his office, where he presently interviewed Mr Egbert Standing. He had not met him before, and he looked at him now with some disfavour. Mr Hale did not like fat young men: he did not like young men who lolled; he disapproved of bow ties with loose ends, and of scented cigarettes. He regarded the curl in Egbert’s hair with well-founded suspicion. For a short moment he shared a sentiment with Miss Margot Standing—he did not like Egbert. The young clerk who took notes in the corner did not like him either.

Everything else apart, Mr Egbert Standing was a most difficult person to do business with. He lolled and yawned, and ran his fingers through the artificial waves of his mouse-coloured hair. He had a round featureless face with light eyes, light lashes, and no eyebrows. Mr Hale disliked him very much indeed. It seemed impossible to get him to take any interest either in Miss Standing’s predicament or his own position as heir-at-law.

Mr Hale repeated Mr Hale senior’s remarks very much as he had repeated them to Margot.

‘My father left me in no doubt that there was some irregularity in Miss Standing’s position. He pressed Mr Standing to make a will, but Mr Standing put the matter aside. I am quite sure that my father knew more than he told me. I believe that he was in Mr Standing’s confidence. May I ask whether your uncle ever spoke to you on the matter?’

Egbert lolled and yawned.

‘I believe he did.’

‘You believe he did!’

‘I have some slight recollection—I—er—I’m not a business man. I—er—don’t take much interest in business.’

‘Can you tell me what your uncle said?’

Egbert ran his hands through his hair.

‘I—er—really I have a very poor memory.’

‘Mr Standing, this is a very important matter. Do you assert that your uncle spoke to you in such a sense as to lead you to suppose that your cousin was illegitimate?’

‘Something of that sort.’ Egbert’s voice was languid in the extreme.

‘What did he say?’

‘I—er—really can’t remember. I don’t take much interest in family matters.’

‘You must have some recollection.’

‘My uncle was, I believe, excited—I seem to remember that. He was, in fact, annoyed—with me—yes, I think it was with me. And I have some recollection of his saying—’ Egbert paused and regarded his right thumb-nail critically.

‘Yes? What did he say?’

‘I really don’t remember exactly. It was something about his will.’

‘Yes? That is important.’

‘I don’t remember really what he said. But he seemed annoyed. And it was something about making his will, because he’d be hanged if he’d let the property come to me. But he didn’t make a will after all, did he?’

‘We haven’t been able to find one. Was that all he said, Mr Standing?’

‘Oh no there was a lot more—about my cousin, you know.’

‘What did he say about your cousin?’

Egbert yawned.

‘I didn’t take any interest in her, I’m afraid.’

Mr Hale strove for patience.

‘What did your uncle say about his daughter’s position?’

‘I don’t remember,’ said Egbert vaguely. ‘Something about it’s being irregular—something like he said before, when he wrote to me.’

Mr Hale sat bolt upright.

‘Your uncle wrote to you about his daughter’s position?’

Egbert shook his head.

‘He wrote to me about the club I was putting up for—said he’d blackball me.’

Mr Hale tapped on the table.

‘You said he wrote to you about his daughter.’

‘No, he wrote to me about blackballing me for the club. He just mentioned his daughter.’

‘In a letter of that sort? Mr Standing!’

‘Come to think of it, it wasn’t that letter at all. I told you my memory was awfully bad.’

‘Oh, it was another letter? And what did he say?’

‘I really can’t remember,’ said Egbert in an exhausted voice.

‘Have you got that letter—did you keep it?’

Egbert brightened a little.

‘I might have it, but I don’t know—I’m so awfully careless about letters. I just leave them about, you know, and sometimes my man throws them away, and sometimes he doesn’t. I could ask him.’

‘He’d be hardly likely to remember, but perhaps you will have a search made.’

‘He reads all the letters,’ said Egbert thoughtfully. ‘He might remember.’

Years of self-control do not go for nothing. Mr Hale merely pressed his lips together for a moment before saying:

‘Will you kindly ask him to make a thorough search? This letter may be a very important piece of evidence. Indeed, if it contains Mr Standing’s own admission that his daughter’s birth was irregular, the whole question would be settled.’ He paused, and added, ‘In your favour.’

‘I suppose it would,’ said Egbert vaguely.

Mr Hale shuffled some papers.

‘It is, perhaps, a little premature to raise the point, but if you succeed as heir-at-law, you will, I presume, be prepared to consider the question of some allowance to your cousin. I mention this now, because if we had your assurance on this point, we should be prepared to make her a small advance. She appears to be entirely without money.’

‘Does she?’

‘Entirely. She in fact asked me for some money to go on with only this afternoon.’

‘Did she?’

‘I am telling you that she did, and I should be glad to have your views on the subject of an allowance.’

Egbert yawned.

‘I don’t go in for having views. Art is what interests me—my little collections—a bit of china—a miniature a print—Art.’

‘Mr Standing, I must really ask you whether you are prepared to guarantee a small allowance to your cousin.’

‘Why should I?’

Mr Hale explained.

‘If you succeed to the late Mr Standing’s fortune, you will be a very wealthy man.’

Egbert shook his head again.

‘Not after everybody’s had their pickings,’ he said.

Mr Hale understood him to refer to the death duties.

‘There will be a good deal left,’ he said drily. ‘An allowance to your cousin—’

For the third time Egbert shook his head.

‘Nothing doing. If there’s a will, or if it turns out that my uncle really married her mother, would she make me an allowance? Not much.’

‘The positions are hardly analogous.’

‘There’s nothing doing,’ said Egbert—‘not in the way of an allowance. Someone—’ he ran his hand through his hair—‘someone suggested we might get married. What do you think of that?’

‘It is rather a question of what Miss Standing would think of it.’

‘Why? It would put her all right, wouldn’t it? I thought it was rather a bright suggestion myself—puts us both right, don’t you see? If there’s a will or a certificate it makes it all right for me. And if there isn’t a will or a certificate, it makes it all right for her. I thought it was quite a bright suggestion.’

‘It would certainly be a provision for Miss Standing.’

‘Or for me,’ said Egbert.