‘Yes, I suppose so. I hadn’t really thought about it,’ replied Mary, looking rather scared.
‘Do you mind if we get this straightened out?’ said Hugh. ‘I frankly haven’t got the hang of it. What relation to you is this aunt of Carter’s?’
‘Oh, she isn’t my aunt!’
‘No, that I’d grasped. How does the relationship work?’
‘Well, I don’t think it does really. She’s a Carter, you see. I suppose, in a way, I’m connected with her through Wally, but she isn’t actually a relation. She wasn’t actually Wally’s aunt either, though he always called her aunt. She was a cousin.’
Hugh said patiently: ‘What exactly was your relationship to Carter?’
‘I was his first cousin. My father’s elder sister married Wally’s father.’
‘Then you’ve no Carter blood at all?’
‘Oh no, none!’
‘In that case,’ said Hugh, ‘it’s just as well that you never set much store by Aunt Clara’s money. You won’t get it.’
‘Won’t I? Are you sure?’ said Mary, bewildered.
‘How you must be enjoying yourself!’ said Vicky, addressing herself to Hugh. ‘You practically couldn’t be more blighting! Poor Mary, do you mind frightfully?’
‘No. I don’t think so. It never really entered into my calculations.’
‘I’m bound to say this is all very surprising,’ said the Inspector. ‘I suppose you’re sure of your facts, sir?’
‘Of course I’m sure! A man can’t bequeath property which he doesn’t possess.’
‘Well, but who will get it?’ asked Mary. ‘After all, I was Wally’s nearest surviving relative!’
‘That has nothing to do with it. When the old lady dies, the money will go to her next-of-kin. You don’t come into it at all.’
‘But, Hugh, she hasn’t got any next-of-kin now that Wally’s dead! I know Wally told me she was an only child, and she certainly never got married.’
‘My dear girl, it doesn’t make the least difference to you. You’re out of it altogether. Sorry, but there it is!’
‘Is that the law?’ said Vicky incredulously.
‘That, my fair one, is the law,’ replied Hugh.
‘Well, I think it’s all for the best,’ said Vicky, ‘and a complete sell for Alexis, because the Inspector now sees that Mary hadn’t got a motive. Don’t you, Inspector?’
‘No,’ said Mary. ‘No, it doesn’t clear me, because I didn’t know about this next-of-kin business. Oh dear, what a nightmare it’s beginning to be! But surely you can’t think I’d shoot my cousin!’
‘Darling Mary, no one who’d ever seen you with a gun could possibly think you’d fired a shot in your life,’ said Vicky, with lovely frankness.
‘It’s a funny thing, but it’s not often you’ll find a lady who won’t behave as though she thought a gun would bite her,’ remarked the Inspector. ‘But I understand you’re not like that, miss?’
Vicky’s seraphic blue eyes surveyed him for a moment. ‘Did the Prince tell you that?’ she asked softly.
‘It doesn’t matter who told me, miss. Do you shoot?’
‘No! I mean, yes, in a way I do,’ said Vicky, becoming flustered all at once. ‘But I practically never hit anything! Do I, Mary? Mary, you know it was only one of my acts, and I’m not really a good shot at all! If I hit anything, it’s quite by accident. Mary, why are you looking at me like that?’
Mary, who had been taken by surprise by the sudden loss of poise in Vicky, stammered: ‘I wasn’t! I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
‘You think I did it!’ Vicky cried, springing to her feet. ‘You’ve always thought so! Well, you can’t prove it, any of you! You’ll never be able to prove it!’