Fenwick's Legal Wife

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 83, 8 April 1933, Page 11 (Supplement)

Fenwick's Legal Wife

By 'I - .MARLEY CAMERON

I CHAPTER VII. Is the Captain Guilty? So, thought Nancy Burrows, as the young man came forward, the Press has found us already. She returned his bow stiffly. "Am I speaking to Mrs. James Fenwick?" he asked rather nervously. The young lady, he thought, looked scarcely old enough to be a matron. "No; Mrs. Fenwick is not at all well. She wishes me to receive everyone who calk upon her." "Oh, but I've travelled over two hundred miles on purpose to see her, and I can't wait about until she feels better. My business with her is private. She would hot wish me to discuss it with a third person."

"Ah," thought Nancy, "so this is the latest trick of these reporters —to get interviews on the pretence that they are private and then come out. with a lurid column of print." Aloud «he said: "I'm sorry, but that is the position, and I'm afraid I can't change it." He looked crestfallen and disappointed, and he was a rather pleasant-looking young man— athletic, and well,set up—the sort of young manKshef would, have stretched,a point to oblige if the part of a lioness protecting her cubs had not been forced upon her.

"I suppose," he went on, "that you know Mrs. Fenwick ,very well? Perhaps you were out in Havana with her?"

This was a point on -which she felt she could safely make a concession. "Yes, I have lived with her for four years."

"Ah," he exclaimed, in the tone of a drowning man who sees a lifebuoy within reach, and looked round for chairs. "I see soma seats over there. Shall we sit down?"

With any other kind of reporter Nancy would have said that she was quite comfortable standing, but having the natural instinct of politeness she moved away to a lounge seat in the corner of the hall farthest removed from the porter's desk and eat down. Before he could open the conversation she spoke. "I ought to tell you quite clearly that Mrs. Fenwick will not consent to he seen by any newspaper reporter, and that I must comply with her wishes by declining to answer any questions at all."

Her visitor lifted his eyebrows in astonishment. "We seem to be at cross purposes, madam. I'm afraid that I did not hear your name."

"My name is Burrows," returned Nancy, rather tartly.

"I am a solicitor, Miss Burrows, not a reporter. Here is my card."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for my stupid mistake," exclaimed Nancy, in great relief. She founded her regard for English solicitors on the model of Sam Wrench. "Yon see I hate the modern methods of publicity." "You cannot hate them more than I do." Up to this | point their interview seemed full.of .promise." "Tell me,"- cooed * Nancy, "why you were so anxious to see Mrs. Fenwick personally?" . . '?Let.nie askydii first whether Mns. Fenwick, confides all her private affairs to mean; should I bis justified in discussing her confidential business with you?" ■.: ■ ' ' '•'. , "Yes, Pact for her in the most confidential matters." "You are aware, then, that she has a claim against the estate of the late Mr. Fenwick?": V ... '. .;, "Yes, because, of course, all her late husband's property is hers by right." "By what right, may I ask?" "He left it to her by will."

"And 6he has the will?" "Excuse me. Are not solicitors always acting for somebody before they travel hundreds of miles about a case? You are not acting for Mrs. Dolores Fen : wick./ Will you kindly say who you ire acting for?" < .■"' Thus challenged young Morris had to admit that he was acting for the executor to. James Fen wick's- will made a quarter.-of a century before. Nancy recoiled as if she had been nursing an adder in her bosom. "Then it was your client who robbed Dolores Fenwick of what rightly'belongs to her." ".,Morris 'decided that ho did not like this young lady, in spite of her un-doubted-attractions. She had forced him to adopt the defensive. "The executor acted'in, strict accordance with the law. He;advertised widely for other claimantisr he wrote to the British Consul in Havana;:: he delayed applying for probate for nearly nine months, in Bpite of continual pressure from the beneficiaries, and no one . came, forward. What more could lie have,done?"

"Did he.&ek the Consul whether Mr. Fenwick had any dependants living in Cuba? If" he'had done that, of course, the Consul would have told him that he had a wife and child in Havana. Mr. Fenwick was the most prominent Englishman irii/the' island."

Nancy had.laid her finger on the one weak spot in Morris' case, and he resented it,- but- he awarded marks to, her for her quickness of wit. "Had that question been asked and answered in the affirmative, it';.would not have benefited your friend 'Unless she had produced a later will made in her favour."

"When r that will is produced he will produce the money. Is that what you mean ?"

"The money is no longer at the executor's disposal. Probably those who now hold it might choose to fight her claim in the. Probate Court—a very disagreeable and .expensive' proceeding for; the claimant., But I suppose that she is prepared for that;'most claimants are."

His tone more than his words implied offence. Nancy's eyes flashed with anger. I see that you think she is a common adventuress. When : .l tell you that she belongs to. one of the oldest families .in Spain. . ." '"

"Oh, she's Spanish, is she?" Now I begin to see where we stand."

"And I begin to see the picture of her that you've formed in your mind— a.tall, sinuous, dark lady with flashing •eyes, looking as if she could dance the fandango, facing the lawyers boldly, sparring with them as if she enjoyed the excitement and the publicity."

■'.cAt this moment a little boy came running across the hall. He flung himself upon Nancy crying, "Where have you been, Aunt Nancy ? We've been for a walk by the oceari." He had no t§ue to say more. Morris saw a fair, fragile little woman approaching with a timid, shrinking air and the traces of striking beauty dimmed by suffering. ficr eyes seemed to implore protection.

ehe murmured; "I didn't see the gentleman. I thought, you were alone." : ifancy sprang to her feet and put a protecting arm round her. "You're tired, Dolores. Run up to your room and rest, and take Feterkins with you. I'll be with, you in a .very few minutes." I The lady took the little boy by the "Wsd !».nd moved ajwaar. *owar«U ftfca ** r *? " ' • " -i " "'

"Is that lady the second Mrs. Fenwick?" asked Morris. He looked puzzled and uneasy; she was so unlike the picture he had formed of the claimant— the picture of an ample, swarthy, dame with a budding moustache. "Yes, that was Mrs. Fenwick." "Who was too ill to see me!" "Yes," said Nancy, defiantly. "She is always too ill to see journalists—and lawyers." The young lawyer looked crestfallen. He was thinking rather ruefully of the effect that this appealing little person might have upon a British jury. To his great surprise he felt a touch upon his arm, and, looking up, found Nancy gazing at him with appeal in her grey eyes. "Don't let us_ quarrel, Mr. Morris. I want to ask you a favour. The lady has been dangerously ill, and I was telling yqu the truth when I said that she was not well enough to see strangers. She has been through terrible trouble. If she were told that her marriage to Mr. Fenwick was invalid and that that little boy had no right to his father's name, it would kill her. I want you to promise not to attempt to see her, but to come either to me or to Mr. Wrench if you have anything to say to her— until the time comes when she may have to be told."

"I will promise not to attempt to see her, but I do not like to tie my hands indefinitely, because new circumstances might arise."

"Thank you," said the girl simply, as she shook hands with him. "I know that I can trust your promise."

William Morris left the hotel feeling that fate had been unkind to him. He would ■So much have preferred to be acting for this poor, frail little claimant and tiie clever girl with the frank grey eyes than for the shifty, common matron who lived in Hill Road, Hampstead. He strolled down to Princess Square and scrutinised the address plates on the doors. Finding what he wanted he looked at his watch and decided that there was time for an interview with Mr, Samuel Wrench before the luncheon hour. His card was taken in by Withers, who beckoned to him to follow. j

"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Morris. I scarcely expected to have this pleasure so soon."

"My father asked me to come down at once to see you in connection with the murder of Bruce Fenwick. -No doubt you've seen an account of it in the newspapers."

"I have: so far they don't seem to know very much."

"My father is very much concerned about it. You will remember that the murdered man was, in a sense, his ward. It occurred to him that murder with a razor is a foreign sort of crime; that happily it is almost unknown among criminals of British birth, and that, living as he did for so many years in Cuba, James Fenwick might have made enemies. He wondered whether the lady whom you represent had any male companion on the boat. Please understand that I should never think of asking you Jfchis question if you had not offered spontaneously to keep \is informed of any important developments in the case."

"Quite so, Mr. Morris," replied Sam, with a twinkle. "Your visit to me is quite correct and proper, and I feel perfectly justified in replying to your question. I understand that the lady had no male travelling companion, but I am told that a Cuban, named Sanchez Perez —you might make a note of the name—came over in the same boat, and that he called at the flat of Bruce Fenwick, in Westminster, a few hours before the murder."

"And saw him ?" asked Morris, eagerly. "No, Fenwick was out when he called, but the man left his card."

.."Of course 1 must not ask you for the sources of your information, but do yon think that the police know this?"

... "I wonder! I fancy that there would be no difficulty in locating the man. There is a pretty complete register of all the aliens who come to London kept at the Police Station in Bow Street. Perez seems to be a man of some note in Havana. Ho edits, if he does not own, a newspaper, but he differs from the other Cuban editors in one respect. The others engage a professional lighter to fight their duels for them: Perez prefers to fight his own. _He is not particular about the weapon chosen. He has a regular armoury hanging on the wall of his editorial room, and he points to it politely when the representative of the party aggrieved by one of his articles calls upon him. I am told that he deplores the modern lack of spirit— lift receives so few challenges in these days, but that may be because he is a dead shot and as neat with the rapier as he is with the gun."

"Oh, that's the kind of man we have to deal with! He'd better not try any of his Cuban triqks here: he'd have the shock of his life if he did. But a man with so little regard . for human life, knowing that duelling is not tolerated in this country, might well resort to murder if he thought he could do it undetected, and I should think that a razor would be just the weapon he would choose."

"Especially an American razor. I hear that the blade bore an American mark, and there is a big importation of American goods into Cuba. Did you think of calling upon him?"

"I haven't yet made up my mind on that point. It might be worth while to hoar from hie own lips what was his object.in <*oming to London. Now, my father • wanted me to ask you another question—whether you have located the captain of the steamer Oroya?"

"Yes, 1 had a reply from the company this morning. It says that Captain Mackay 'became seriously ill on the Voyage out to Havana'and was sent to the local hospital on shore. The ship had to return in charge of the chief officer."

"If this claim is carried any further that captain will have to be seen by one of ns; but taking the story at. its. face value and speaking without prejudice, don't you think that the evidence points to James Fenwick having lost his mental balance? A man in that state of mind might do anything—might easily stuff some blank sheets of paper into an envelope in the belief that they were his will and seal it up." Sam Wrench smiled. "Is that to be the line of the defence when the case comes into Court?" "No, no! I was only suggesting a possibility. You will admit, I think, that unless your client can produce the alleged will she will have no right of action ?" "Of course I admit that. I can say no more at this stage than that I hope to be able to produce it." "You have a very hopeful nature, Mr. .Wrench," laughed Morris, and with that parting shot he took his leave. (To be continued daily.) ,

" CELIA "