“Stay,” he said, lifting one hand, as Churton seemed about to rise. “I have not done.”
He read aloud yet another codicil, dated less than three weeks back. This codicil entirely reversed all that was in the other codicil, and reverted to the first arrangement, everything being again left to my husband, with the exception of a few small legacies, and also with the exception of one thousand pounds to Jack.
I heard Maimie utter a little “Oh!” of pleasure at that. Evidently she had not known it beforehand.
Robert’s drooped head was lifted, while Churton sprang to his feet. I never saw a face so changed in a few seconds. He seemed in a fury.
“What! what! what!” he shouted. “What’s that? It’s a trick,—a shame. I don’t believe it.”
“Look for yourself, Mr. Hazel,” the lawyer said composedly, keeping the will in his own hand, but pointing to the last paragraph.
“This is your doing?” he shouted. “You hear?”
“I don’t believe it,” repeated Churton, pacing to and fro. “Why, the old lady herself told me—” There he broke off, as if he had not meant to say so much, and condescended to examine the codicil. “What does it mean? Three weeks ago! And I to be told nothing!”
“That was hardly necessary,” the lawyer said, with considerable dryness. “Legatees are not always informed as to the exact amount which they may expect to receive at a testator’s death.”