He beckoned to Mr. Curtis, and, when the inspector had departed with the police-surgeon, we induced the porter to let us into the garden.

“The question that you asked,” Mr. Marchmont began, looking up curiously at the tall houses opposite, “is very simply answered.  The only person immediately interested in the death of Alfred Hartridge is his executor and sole legatee, a man named Leonard Wolfe.  He is no relation of the deceased, merely a friend, but he inherits the entire estate—­about twenty thousand pounds.  The circumstances are these:  Alfred Hartridge was the elder of two brothers, of whom the younger, Charles, died before his father, leaving a widow and three children.  Fifteen years ago the father died, leaving the whole of his property to Alfred, with the understanding that he should support his brother’s family and make the children his heirs.”

“Was there no will?” asked Thorndyke.

“Under great pressure from the friends of his son’s widow, the old man made a will shortly before he died; but he was then very old and rather childish, so the will was contested by Alfred, on the grounds of undue influence, and was ultimately set aside.  Since then Alfred Hartridge has not paid a penny towards the support of his brother’s family.  If it had not been for my client, Mr. Curtis, they might have starved; the whole burden of the support of the widow and the education of the children has fallen upon him.

“Well, just lately the matter has assumed an acute form, for two reasons.  The first is that Charles’s eldest son, Edmund, has come of age.  Mr. Curtis had him articled to a solicitor, and, as he is now fully qualified, and a most advantageous proposal for a partnership has been made, we have been putting pressure on Alfred to supply the necessary capital in accordance with his father’s wishes.  This he had refused to do, and it was with reference to this matter that we were calling on him this morning.  The second reason involves a curious and disgraceful story.  There is a certain Leonard Wolfe, who has been an intimate friend of the deceased.  He is, I may say, a man of bad character, and their association has been of a kind creditable to neither.  There is also a certain woman named Hester Greene, who had certain claims upon the deceased, which we need not go into at present.  Now, Leonard Wolfe and the deceased, Alfred Hartridge, entered into an agreement, the terms of which were these:  (1) Wolfe was to marry Hester Greene, and in consideration of this service (2) Alfred Hartridge was to assign to Wolfe the whole of his property, absolutely, the actual transfer to take place on the death of Hartridge.”

“And has this transaction been completed?” asked Thorndyke.

“Yes, it has, unfortunately.  But we wished to see if anything could be done for the widow and the children during Hartridge’s lifetime.  No doubt, my client’s daughter, Miss Curtis, called last night on a similar mission—­very indiscreetly, since the matter was in our hands; but, you know, she is engaged to Edmund Hartridge—­and I expect the interview was a pretty stormy one.”