Fatal Inheritance Read Online Free PDF Page B

but he had said it was impossible, out of the question. Frau Bochsler did not see why it should be out of the question. Such things could be inherited, certainly. She continued to finger the napkins. But Sebastian had said it was impossible. Then he had laughed. He was a young man of infinite vitality; the guests had been won over by his charm.
    All this was relevant enough, but although it appeared that the guests were learning many an interesting fact from Sebastian, I could hardly imagine what he might have learnt from any of them during the course of such banal conversations. Yet it was tantalising. The violin must have been of tremendous importance to him – I could well imagine a flamboyant personality on the cusp of a grand career appreciating the effect produced on his public by the unusual sight of a lion’s head at the tip of his instrument. The fact that he associated the violin with his ‘destiny’ was also intriguing, indicative of something fundamental in his life. Yet, what on earth could he have possibly learnt that night about his own violin? And what fact about a violin could possibly provoke a suicide? Even discovering that it was a fake or a fraud would surely not produce so dramatic an effect. My imagination was failing me.
    I drew Frau Bochsler back to the subject of Sebastian’s suicide. She could not imagine any relation whatsoever between this terrible event and anything that had transpired during the soirée. It seemed to her, alas, much more probable that poor Sebastian had made some dreadful discovery in London. Could it not be – she leant towards me, dropping her voice to a whisper – that he had found out something
about his fiancée
? Such things had been known to shatter the happiness of young men.
    I told her that the fiancée was more distraught by the mystery of it all than anyone else, and described the note that Sebastian had left for her. Frau Bochsler sighed deeply upon hearing about it, and the distaste for having doubts shed upon the absolute success of her party was slightly overshadowed by the glowing account I gave of the mystery of it all, and the realisation that she might possibly yet play a role in its elucidation. I asked again if she could be sure that there had been no other significant moments for Sebastian during the evening, and if she had noticed his mood when he finally left. Well, it was as she had told me; he left somewhat early as he had an early train to Paris on the following morning, and he was definitely tense when he told her this, as he shook her hand. Perhaps there had been something to cause that. It was possible, after all, although she had certainly thought nothing of it at the time.
    Could I, perhaps, arrange to meet some of the other guests and ask them the question?
    It would be a little socially awkward. Yet, she thought it could be done. Without saying so directly, she intimated that certain people might be quite interested to hear details about the terrible tragedy that had passed so close to them. She could arrange something. She had the list of guests, of course. Her soirées were highly prestigious, highly desirable. Everyone who was anyone in Zürich wished to be invited. She must keep lists and be careful to exclude undesirables. Anything might happen if one were not strict; people who were not received because of a social scandal could attach themselves to other people and, on the grounds of visiting them, could worm their way in. Frau Bochsler had had to yield on such matters many a time when she was younger and less experienced, and more than once she’d had a soirée ruined by the presence of an obnoxious or unwanted guest. She knew better now. She had precise lists and they were given to the servants. Yes, we could consult her list. It would be awkward but not impossible to visit her guests and explain the situation. There were not as many visits to make as it might seem, since many of the guests had come as couples or families. She