Read Online A Well Kept Secret by A. B. King - Free Book Online

be permitted to say.”

    At that point Miss Grayson tapped on the door and brought in a tray spread with cups and saucers, a small teapot under a hand knitted cosy, along with milk and sugar, and a small plate of biscuits. She poured out two cups of tea after first enquiring if Martin took sugar and milk. When her task was completed she quietly exited the office, closing the door behind her.

    “This question as to why my uncle wished me to inherit his estate has been on my mind since I first learned of his death,” Martin said as the door closed behind the receptionist. “As I have mentioned, there has been no correspondence between him and my late mother that I am aware of, and certainly not with me subsequent to her death. The truth of the matter is that until I was advised of the will I had forgotten his very existence. I hope you will agree this makes the bequest somewhat extraordinary. If you have known him for so many years, even without having definite information, I wondered if you had any suspicions of anything, well, unusual that may assist towards helping me to understand the reason for his action?”

    Mr Dobson shrugged eloquently. “As I said; he never gave me any reason,” he repeated. “Nor do I entertain any ‘suspicions’ pertaining to the matter. The will, which superseded one made some twenty five-odd years ago, was made shortly after the death of your aunt, replacing the earlier one in which you were not mentioned. I’m afraid that following the death of his wife he became rather withdrawn, and when he decided to completely redraft his will, he made no reference as to why he made the decision.”

    “Hm, presumably the original one left everything to his wife, and she will have made out a reciprocal one I've no doubt?”

    Mr Dobson looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, that is a matter I am unable to comment on.”

    Martin was mildly surprised at his stuffy attitude but allowed it to pass without comment.

    “He must have been pretty lonely,” he remarked, changing the subject slightly, “living in that great mausoleum of house on his own?”

    “If he was, he never admitted to the fact,” Dobson responded, his expression appearing to indicate that he felt on safer ground now. “I did suggest to him on one occasion that living in such a big place all alone was perhaps not the best thing for him in his declining years, and that he should consider moving to a smaller one. He refused to consider the matter, telling me that it was his intention to die in the house where he had lived for most of his professional life.”

    “I suppose it was only natural that he felt rather attached to it. After all, it was where he must have spent all of his married life.”

    “Possibly; although as far as I am aware no one ever heard of him speaking of the place in glowing terms, certainly not in the latter years. On the other hand, it has to be admitted that he never left it for any length of time. He never went away on business, never even went away for a holiday. I sometimes felt that he regarded the house as more of a prison than a home.”

    “How extraordinary,” Martin commented, then added; “Do you think that the loss of his wife is what caused him to alter his will?”

    “I would think there is possibly some connection; the new will was drafted only the matter of a few weeks after her funeral,” he admitted. “Whether this was just a passing whim, or if the matter had been on his mind for some time I couldn’t say.”

    “And there is nothing at all you can think of that would enable me to resolve this interesting conundrum?” he pressed.

    Mr Dobson looked at him, and Martin formed the opinion that the solicitor did know something, yet for whatever reason was not prepared to divulge it.

    “If it is of any assistance,” he said, “and speaking quite unofficially and in confidence you understand, I can tell you in respect of your earlier question that your late aunt’s will left