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Updated: June 14, 2025
"During the last month or so the thing has come to me which we all look forward to, only I don't think fate has treated me kindly. I have always loved normal ways and normal people, and the woman I care for is different." "Tell me about her?" she insisted. "You will be very surprised when I tell you her name," he said. "It is Margaret Hilditch."
Hilditch, and a very stormy interview took place. I do not know the rights of that, sir. I only know that there was a fierce quarrel. Mrs. Hilditch came in and Sir Timothy left the house. His last words to Mr. Hilditch were, 'You will hear from me again. As you know, sir I mean as you remember, if you followed the evidence all the servants slept at the back of the house.
It was a day when chance was kind to Francis. After leaving his rooms at the Temple, he made a call at one of the great clubs in Pall Mall, to enquire as to the whereabouts of a friend. On his way back towards the Sheridan, he came face to face with Margaret Hilditch, issuing from the doors of one of the great steamship companies. For a moment he almost failed to recognise her.
To tell you the truth, for a murder trial it seemed to me to rather lack colour." "It was a very simple and straightforward case," Francis said slowly. "Oliver Hilditch is the principal partner in an American financial company which has recently opened offices in the West End.
"He told me this morning that he believed that it was to you or to your friend at Scotland Yard that Walter had told his story. But you don't know you don't know how terrible the temptation was how you see I say it quite coolly how Oliver Hilditch deserved to die. He was trusted by my father in South America and he deceived him, he forged the letters which induced me to marry him.
The room was well-ventilated but Andrew Wilmore felt suddenly hot and choking. A woman, one of the little group of newcomers, glanced towards Francis curiously. "Francis Ledsam, the criminal barrister," her companion whispered, "the man who got Oliver Hilditch off. The man with him is Andrew Wilmore, the novelist. Discussing a case, I expect."
"Are we fortunate enough to find you disengaged," Hilditch suggested, "to-morrow evening?" "I am quite free," was the ready response. "That suits you, Margaret?" Hilditch asked, turning courteously to his wife. For a single moment her eyes were fixed upon those of her prospective guest. He read their message which pleaded for his refusal, and he denied it.
"The financial position of the company depends entirely upon the value of a large quantity of speculative bonds, but as there was only one clerk employed, it was impossible to get at any figures. Hilditch declared that Jordan had only a small share in the business, from which he had drawn a considerable income for years, and that he had not the slightest cause for complaint."
Hilditch took up the weapon which you know about, sat in a chair and held it to his heart. I heard him say something like this. 'This ought to appeal to you, Sir Timothy. You're a specialist in this sort of thing. One little touch, and there you are. Mrs. Hilditch said something about putting it away. My master turned to Sir Timothy and said something in a low tone.
Francis looked at him in surprise. The man was evidently agitated. Somehow or other, his face was vaguely familiar. "Who are you, and what do you want with me?" Francis asked. "I was butler to Mr. Hilditch, sir," the man replied. "I waited upon you the night you dined there, sir the night of Mr. Hilditch's death." "Well?"
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