After the Funeral by Agatha Christie Page B

all very fond of Mrs Leo.” He sighed. “I feel it very much, sir, if you will excuse me mentioning it, that the house has to be sold. I've known it for so very many years, and seen all the young ladies and gentlemen grow up in it. I always thought that Mr Mortimer would come after his father and perhaps bring up a family here, too. It was arranged, sir, that I should go to the North Lodge when I got past doing my work here. A very nice little place, the North Lodge - and I looked forward to having it very spick and span. But I suppose that's all over now.”
    “I'm afraid so, Lanscombe. The estate will all have to be sold together. But with your legacy -”
    “Oh I'm not complaining, sir, and I'm very sensible of Mr Abernethie's generosity. I'm well provided for, but it's not so easy to find a little place to buy nowadays and though my married niece has asked me to make my home with them, well, it won't be quite the same thing as living on the estate.”
    “I know,” said Mr Entwhistle. “It's a hard new world for us old fellows. I wish I'd seen more of my old friend before he went. How did he seem those last few months?”
    “Well, he wasn't himself, sir. Not since Mr Mortimer's death.”
    “No, it broke him up. And then he was a sick man - sick men have strange fancies sometimes. I imagine Mr Abernethie suffered from that sort of thing in his last days. He spoke of enemies sometimes, of somebody wishing to do him harm - perhaps? He may even have thought his food was being tampered with?”
    Old Lanscombe looked surprised - surprised and offended.
    “I cannot recall anything of that kind, sir.”
    Entwhistle looked at him keenly.
    “You're a very loyal servant, Lanscombe, I know that. But such fancies, on Mr Abernethie's part would be quite - er - unimportant - a natural symptom in some - er - diseases.”
    “Indeed, sir? I can only say Mr Abernethie never said anything like that to me, or in my hearing.”
    Mr Entwhistle slid gently to another subject.
    “He had some of his family down to stay with him, didn't he, before he died. His nephew and his two nieces and their husbands?”
    “Yes, sir, that is so.”
    “Was he satisfied with those visits? Or was he disappointed?”
    Lanscombe's eyes became remote, his old back stiffened.
    “I really could not say, sir.”
    “I think you could, you know,” said Mr Entwhistle gently. “It's not your place to say anything of that kind - that's what you really mean. But there are times when one has to do violence to one's sense of what is fitting. I was one of your master's oldest friends. I cared for him very much. So did you. That's why I'm asking you for your opinion as a man, not as a butler.”
    Lanscombe was silent for a moment, then he said in a colourless voice:
    “Is there anything - wrong, sir?”
    Mr Entwhistle replied truthfully.
    “I don't know,” he said. “I hope not. I would like to make sure. Have you yourself felt that something was - wrong?”
    “Only since the funeral, sir. And I couldn't say exactly what it is. But Mrs Leo and Mrs Timothy, too, they didn't seem quite themselves that evening after the others had gone.”
    “You know the contents of the will?”
    “Yes, sir. Mrs Leo thought I would like to know. It seemed to me, if I may permit myself to comment, a very fair will.”
    “Yes, it was a fair will. Equal benefits. But it is not, I think, the will that Mr Abernethie originally intended to make after his son died. Will you answer now the question that I asked you just now?”
    “As a matter of personal opinion -”
    “Yes, yes, that is understood.”
    “The master, sir, was very much disappointed after Mr George had been here. He had hoped, I think, that Mr George might resemble Mr Mortimer. Mr George, if I may say so, did not come up to standard. Miss Laura's husband was always considered unsatisfactory, and I'm afraid Mr George took after him.” Lanscombe paused and then went on, “Then the young ladies came with their