“It is possible,” the commissary cried excitedly. “Decidedly, it is possible.”
“Possible?” roared Stonor. “It’s certain! Tell me, have you asked Mrs. Renauld about this love affair stunt of yours?”
“No, monsieur. We did not wish to occasion her any distress if it could reasonably be avoided.”
“Distress? Why, she’d laugh in your face. I tell you, she and Renauld were a couple in a hundred.”
“Ah, that reminds me of another point,” said M. Hautet. “Did M. Renauld take you into his confidence at all as to the dispositions of his will?”
“I know all about it—took it to the lawyer for him after he’d drawn it out. I can give you the name of his solicitors if you want to see it. They’ve got it there. Quite simple. Half in trust to his wife for her lifetime, the other half to his son. A few legacies. I rather think he left me a thousand.”
“When was this will drawn up?”
“Oh, about a year and a half ago.”
“Would it surprise you very much, M. Stonor, to hear that M. Renauld had made another will, less than a fortnight ago?”
Stonor was obviously very much surprised.