remind me that I am also mortal, and may myself not have much longer to live.’
‘No, no, my friend,’ protested Frank. ‘You still have a good many years to go yet.’
‘You may be right,’ said Cornelius, ‘although funnily enough it was you who made me start to think seriously about the future . . .’
‘Me?’ said Frank, looking puzzled.
‘Yes. Don’t you remember some weeks ago, sitting in that chair and advising me that the time had come for me to consider rewriting my will?’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Frank, ‘but that was only because in your present will virtually everything is left to Millie.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ said Cornelius, ‘but it nevertheless served to concentrate the mind. You see, I still rise at six o’clock every morning, but as I no longer
have an office to go to, I spend many self-indulgent hours considering how to distribute my wealth now that Millie can no longer be the main beneficiary.’
Cornelius took another long puff of his cigar before continuing. ‘For the past month I have been considering those around me – my relatives, friends, acquaintances and employees
– and I began to think about the way they have always treated me, which caused me to wonder which of them would show the same amount of devotion, attention and loyalty if I were not worth
millions, but was in fact a penniless old man.’
‘I have a feeling I’m in check,’ said Frank, with a laugh.
‘No, no, my dear friend,’ said Cornelius. ‘ You are absolved from any such doubts. Otherwise I would not be sharing these confidences with you.’
‘But are such thoughts not a little unfair on your immediate family, not to mention . . .’
‘You may be right, but I don’t wish to leave that to chance. I have therefore decided to find out the truth for myself, as I consider mere speculation to be unsatisfactory.’
Once again, Cornelius paused to take a puff of his cigar before continuing. ‘So indulge me for a moment while I tell you what I have in mind, for I confess that without your cooperation it
will be impossible for me to carry out my little subterfuge. But first allow me to refill your glass.’ Cornelius rose from his chair, picked up his friend’s empty goblet and walked to
the sideboard.
‘As I was saying,’ continued Cornelius, passing the refilled glass back to Frank, ‘I have recently been wondering how those around me would behave if I were penniless, and I
have come to the conclusion that there is only one way to find out.’
Frank took a long gulp before enquiring, ‘What do you have in mind? A fake suicide perhaps?’
‘Not quite as dramatic as that,’ replied Cornelius. ‘But almost, because – ’ he paused again ‘ – I intend to declare myself bankrupt.’ He stared
through the haze of smoke, hoping to observe his friend’s immediate reaction. But, as so often in the past, the old solicitor remained inscrutable, not least because, although his friend had
just made a bold move, he knew the game was far from over.
He pushed a pawn tentatively forward. ‘How do you intend to go about that?’ he asked.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ replied Cornelius, ‘I want you to write to the five people who have the greatest claim on my estate: my brother Hugh, his wife Elizabeth, their son Timothy,
my sister Margaret, and finally my housekeeper Pauline.’
‘And what will be the import of this letter?’ asked Frank, trying not to sound too incredulous.
‘You will explain to all of them that, due to an unwise investment I made soon after my wife’s death, I now find myself in debt. In fact, without their help I may well be facing
bankruptcy.’
‘But . . .’ protested Frank.
Cornelius raised a hand. ‘Hear me out,’ he pleaded, ‘because your role in this real-life game could prove crucial. Once you have convinced them that they can no longer expect
anything from me, I intend to put the second phase of my plan into operation, which should prove