Ten Star Clues Read Online Free Page A

know what he could be charged with. I don’t quite know what just saying you are someone you aren’t would come under for a police charge.”
    â€œThe Roger Tichborne man was sent to prison,” Anne reminded him.
    â€œWasn’t that for perjury committed at the first trial?” Arthur asked. “Do you know, Ralph?”
    Ralph didn’t answer. He didn’t like Arthur’s tone very much, and he liked still less the touch of mockery, of malice indeed, he felt beneath the smoothness of Arthur’s voice. It has the voice Arthur used, he felt, when Arthur was explaining to someone that he, Arthur, had got the best of the bargain, and there was nothing the someone could do about it. Of course, it all made very little difference to Arthur since his prospect of inheriting had always been negligible. Ralph’s expectation of life was perfectly good, he and Anne had every intention of producing a large family. Besides, when a chap was as rich and prosperous and successful as Arthur Hoyle, he had no need to worry about losing so small a chance of inheriting. There were, no doubt, those vague rumours about Arthur having dropped a packet recently on the Stock Exchange, but rumours don’t amount to much, and certainly there was no sign of any change in the luxurious style of living at The Thatched Cottage, any more than there was any sign of worry to be seen overshadowing Arthur’s accustomed air of plump prosperity. He was well into his fifth cake now, by the way.
    Through the french windows that opened on the terrace from the small drawing-room, three men came in succession. First was old Earl Wych, aged, white-haired, erect, looking stern and intent, with so set and grim an expression indeed that Sophy found herself thinking of a soldier advancing to the attack. Not that she had ever seen a soldier advancing to the attack, but that was the thought that came into her mind. Behind the old earl was a much younger man, evidently very nervous, a nervousness that showed itself in restless eyes, an occasional twitching at the corners of the mouth, a perpetual fidgeting with handkerchief and cigarette case, and so on. Sophy remembered, too, later on, how when he stood still she could see his toes working inside his long, narrow, shiny, patent leather shoes. A natural nervousness perhaps in a man claiming to be the long-lost heir and uncertain of his reception. At the moment the thought in Sophy’s mind was that if you said ‘Boo’ to him very loudly and very suddenly, he would probably run away. Unfortunately, it occurred to no one to try the experiment. Besides, it may be Sophy did not quite understand the kind of timid desperation, of frightened obstinacy, some people can display.
    Behind these two came a tall, very good-looking young man, athletic in build, with strong, eager features, a bronzed complexion, a general air of brisk and confident authority. He had not at all the appearance of the traditional family lawyer. But it might come to that in time, for he was still much the youngest partner in the old established firm of Wells, Clinton, Wells and Blacklock that for many years had been in charge of all the legal side of the Hoyle estates, and he would certainly not have been here to-day but for the accident that the senior partner, Mr. Blacklock, was ill, and the second partner, another Blacklock, was away on holiday. So this young man, Clinton Wells, combining in himself the original Clinton and Wells strains, found himself in full charge. Gossip whispered that he was an ambitious young man, showing no signs of settling down as a country solicitor, and even entertaining political aspirations. It was reported he had been heard to say that what a little Welsh lawyer could do, a solicitor from the Midlands could do, too. More ill-natured gossip remarked that he had the pale-blue eyes of the Hoyle family, and hinted that a certain unavowed mixing, outside legal bonds, of Hoyle and