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‘No. I have to admit I’d never come across him before he attended my husband’s funeral … But, even worse,’ continued Lady Hartley, ‘I sold Mr Faulkner something that wasn’t mine to sell.’

This time William did remain silent, as he suspected she was about to reveal something of real importance.

‘He seemed genuinely interested in Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence, which never belonged to the family in the first place. If truth be told, we should have returned the Fair Copy to its rightful owner years ago. However, I did throw in the six letters Jefferson wrote to David Hartley, MP, my late husband’s distinguished ancestor.’

‘Six?’ repeated William.

‘Yes. They were all dated and signed by the former president.’

‘But there are only five on offer in Christie’s catalogue,’ Ross said hoping to elicit a response.

‘So he’s decided to sell the letters?’ said Lady Hartley, clearly surprised. ‘Well, who can blame him, when I cheated him out of half a million.’ She paused for a moment before she added, ‘But that’s strange, because I can assure you there were six letters.’

‘Do you have any idea,’ asked William, ‘why he would have kept the sixth letter?’

Lady Hartley didn’t reply for some time, before she said, ‘I suppose it might have been the one in which Jefferson asked Mr Hartley to return the Fair Copy to him in the fullness of time.’

‘I have to tell you Lady Hartley,’ said William, ‘that Mr Faulkner has offered up for auction at Christie’s in New York, not only the five letters but Jefferson’s Fair Copy of the Declaration.’

The old lady looked humbled, but didn’t speak.

‘I don’t suppose your late husband kept a copy of that particular letter, by any chance?’ threw in Ross.

‘Why should he bother to, Inspector, when he knew all six of them off by heart?’

This statement rendered them both speechless.

‘I’m not sure I understand, Lady Hartley,’ William eventually managed.

‘It’s quite simple really. He didn’t need to make a copy of any of them, because he kept the words in his head.’

‘But why would he do that?’ asked William, genuinely puzzled.

‘It’s a long-held Hartley tradition,’ she explained, ‘passed down from generation to generation, that the firstborn must be able to recite the Declaration of Independence off byheart before their twelfth birthday; if they could do so they would receive a hundred guineas. Quite an incentive, I think you’ll agree.’

‘As well as all six letters?’ pressed William.

‘Which my husband would recite at midday on the fourth of July every year.’

‘And did your son carry on with this tradition?’ asked Ross.

‘Yes, along with my grandson, Robert, who was word-perfect long before his twelfth birthday, and deserved every penny of his hundred guineas so I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t aware what was in that letter,’ said Lady Hartley. ‘Frankly, I have been dreading the day Mr Faulkner returned and quite rightly demanded his five hundred thousand pounds back.’

‘I don’t think you need worry about that any longer, Lady Hartley,’ said William. ‘We think it’s quite likely the kind gentleman in question has already destroyed that letter, because, with it out of the way, he’s convinced he’ll make a fortune by selling the Declaration.’

‘But that would be dishonest,’ said Lady Hartley, sounding genuinely shocked.

‘It would indeed,’ said William.

Lady Hartley remained silent for a moment, before she said, ‘Before I offer you a cup of tea, Chief Superintendent, can I ask you if you’re going to arrest me?’

‘Not today, Lady Hartley,’ said William, ‘but you could play an important role in helping us arrest the “kind gentleman”.’

•••

‘Not a woman to be underestimated,’ said William as he climbed into the car and looked back at the old lady who was waving at them.

‘To think we’ve been trying to get the better of Faulkner for the past twenty years,’ said Ross, ‘and she managed it after one meeting.’