I wasn’t an employee of his summoned to walk the carpet. Having studied me and found me wanting, he turned his attention to Lady Sara.
“I must confess, my lady, that I persuaded my good friend the Earl to come along and introduce me so I would be certain of a hearing,” he said. “I know much about you and your achievements, and I have come to ask for your advice if you would be so kind.”
Lady Sara was consulted frequently by business proprietors, from the elderly woman who kept a tiny sweet shop to directors of large companies, but none of them, not even those of Sir Cecil’s class, had ever brought along an earl to introduce them. She modestly replied that she could offer no guarantee, but she would be pleased to give his problem her full attention.
We seated ourselves in the drawing room. Lady Sara suggested tea or coffee, which both men politely declined.
“I hold a substantial interest in the Tradesmen Life and Accident Assurance Company,” Sir Cecil announced, coming to the point immediately. He impressed me as the sort of man who would always come to the point immediately. Probably he had never in his life opened a conversation with a remark about the weather. “In fact, I am its chairman. I will illustrate the problem by describing three cases I have had to deal with recently.”
Lady Sara nodded. “Please do.”
Sir Cecil reflected for a moment. “Eric Hodson was a wool merchant in Bradford. His firm, which seemed prosperous, had been founded by his grandfather. He was in good health, was highly respected by friends and business associates, and had an affectionate family life. The Tradesmen Life and Accident Assurance Company had insured his life for a thousand pounds. Two weeks before the incident I am about to describe, he applied to increase that amount to five thousand pounds, and his application was accepted.
“Shortly afterward, returning home from a neighbouring town, his carriage was struck by a train, and he was instantly killed. It appeared to be a tragic accident until we looked at it closely. Hodson had the reputation of drinking infrequently and then very little. On this night he reeked of alcohol, and there was an opened gin bottle in his smashed trap—presumably he had been holding it in his hand when the train struck him. He had somehow managed to turn onto the tracks and drive along them for a considerable distance, but his horse, which he had owned for many years and was extremely fond of, had miraculously turned aside and then stopped, leaving only the trap in the path of the train. When we looked into Hodson’s business affairs, we found he had been speculating and had lost almost everything he owned. The assurance was, in fact, the only resource that stood between his family and destitution. It was obvious to us that he had craftily committed suicide. The gin was to give credence to his actions. He had driven down the track, turned his horse aside so it would survive, and waited for the train. He deliberately selected a location where the track emerged from a wooded area on a curve and it was impossible for the engine driver to see him until the train was upon him. Do you concur?”
“Of course—on the basis of what you have told me,” Lady Sara said. “Was the assurance payable in the event of suicide?”
“It was not.”
“Did you refuse to pay it?”
“We did not. We paid it promptly, conveying our deepest sympathy to his family.”
“Why?” Lady Sara asked.
“Our solicitor advised us that suicide would be devilishly difficult to prove in a court of law, my lady, however obvious it might seem to us. Further, the attempt would put the company in the position of denying an assured’s family the security for which he had worked so hard and paid premiums for so long. It would give us an unfavourable reputation that would cost far more than the five thousand pounds, so we paid.
“Second example. Edward Pannier was a trusted employee of the North Wales Steel Company. His life was insured for two thousand pounds. He was middle-aged. He had married late and had a young family. His health was excellent, and he was a sailing enthusiast. He took his family to Tenby for the holidays and hired a small sailing boat, which he sailed himself. He failed to return; the boat was recovered later. It had capsized, and obviously he had fallen overboard. The verdict: an accidental drowning. It was a choppy day on the water, and a freakishly large wave could have taken him by surprise. Everything seemed in order until the company audited his accounts and found them twenty thousand pounds in arrears. He had been gambling with the company’s money. He knew an audit was scheduled, and obviously there was no possible way he could have made good the shortage. We were convinced his death was suicide.”
“How long had he been insured?” Lady Sara asked.
“More than seven years.”
“And you paid the claim?”
“Yes, my lady, for the same reason that we paid the first claim. Third example: a widow, a Mrs. Geffen, was providing a home for her grown son and his family. She was in arrears on her mortgage payments, and the lender had threatened to have the bailiffs in. The stove in her bedroom inexplicably malfunctioned, and she was found asphyxiated. The stove was not defective; the damper had been turned. The coroner’s verdict called it an unfortunate accident—the damper lever must have been bumped inadvertently. By coincidence, the amount of her assurance was slightly more than the amount needed to pay off the mortgage. We felt certain that the malfunction had been deliberately arranged. She killed herself. These are only three cases. Obviously we have no idea how many of our death claims represent suicide masquerading as some other kind of death. The cost to the company must be enormous. My question: To what extent would a careful investigation of each applicant for assurance avoid this kind of claim?”
“How long had the widow been insured?”
“For nine years, my lady.”
“In your first example, a careful investigation should have resulted in your declining the application to increase the assurance but not the original application. In the second and third examples, since the causes of suicide occurred long after the subjects were insured, an investigation would have been of no help at all. A really careful investigation, by a skilled investigator with ample time and resources, would be far more costly than you realize. Obviously it would not be economically feasible except where unusually large amounts of money are at risk.”
“Thank you for your time, my lady. That is what I needed to know.” Sir Cecil got to his feet, nodded to the Earl, who emulated him, and the two of them very politely took their leave of us. In parting, Sir Cecil once again scrutinized me and found me wanting.
After they left, Lady Sara did something completely out of character for her. She went to the window and watched them out of sight.
“Sir Cecil has the reputation of being highly intelligent and imaginative in all of his business dealings,” she said. “Too often when a man of business is flattered in this way, people are attributing his success to the wrong qualities. What he really has is a grasping acquisitiveness.
“On the basis of today’s performance, Sir Cecil is neither intelligent nor imaginative. The head of a large company is like a captain steering his ship through dangerous waters, and he controls a number of such ships. His days are filled with engagements and conferences, with an endless procession of callers wanting something or wanting to sell him something, with cheques to be signed, with important decisions to make, with solicitors to consult, with meetings to preside over, with personal responsibilities to deal with. He took time away from all that to ask for advice an intelligent and imaginative man wouldn’t have needed. His assurance company surely has extensive data on suicides in its own files, and he has an army of clerks available to shape it into reports.”
She
