“And in spite of all this you did not consider it necessary to hold a post-mortem or to ask for an inquest?” “I did not. As I have already said, I had known for a considerable time that Sir Garth had been suffering from an aneurism of dangerous size that was liable to rupture at any time in the event of shock or sudden violent physical exertion. When I was summoned and found that the aneurism had burst and that there was a history of shock—that this slight—er—accident had occurred, I had no hesitation in signing this certificate.” “And you still hold that view?” “Certainly. As I have said, no fresh facts have been brought to my notice which might cause me to alter it.” “Possibly, Sir Horace, the course of this inquiry may cause you to reconsider the correctness of your action. That is all, thank you; you may stand down.” Sir Horace glared at his tormentor, but, finding nothing to say, stood down. Ryland Fratten was now called. After identifying the body and answering a few formal questions about himself and his father he was, at a sign from the Coroner, about to stand down when Chief Inspector Barrod rose to his feet. “May I ask this witness some questions, sir, please?” The Coroner looked rather surprised, but signified his consent. He had been given to understand that the police did not intend to press the inquiry beyond preliminaries at the present hearing—certainly not as regards their suspect. Still, presumably Chief Inspector Barrod knew what he was about. The fact was that Barrod, after watching Ryland Fratten give evidence, had formed the opinion that this was just the type of young and attractive gentleman whom his rather inexperienced colleague—of a similar type himself—might find it difficult to tackle successfully. It will be remembered that the Chief Inspector, while appreciating Poole’s education and qualifications, did not set great store by them—even thought them rather dangerous. He decided, therefore, to take this opportunity to examine Fratten himself. “You are your late father’s heir, Mr. Fratten?” “I was one of his heirs.” “Quite so. You and your sister—your half-sister, that is—Miss Inez Fratten, are joint residuary legatees?” “Yes.” “You each inherit a very large sum of money?” “I suppose it is.” “How much?” “I don’t know.” “But approximately how much? You must know that.” “It is very difficult to say, till all the accounts are in and probate granted. My solicitor would be able to tell you better.” Mr. Menticle half rose from his chair near the Coroner’s table, but Barrod signed to him to sit down. “I am asking you, please, Mr. Fratten. Roughly, now; somewhere about a quarter of a million, eh?” There was a gasp from the crowded court; it sounded a vast sum. “Roughly, perhaps it is.” “Thank you. Now would you mind telling me, what were your relations with your father?” Ryland seemed to draw back into himself. He was clearly distressed by the question; but he answered it.