“That is so.”
“Lady Rellingham, Sir John died in the week preceding Easter in 1902. If he were not aware you were alive until the interview took place in 1902, how do you account for the fact that his will was made in 1900—the trust drawn up in 1900—a trust which you say was for your benefit, whereas he did not know in 1900, when he drew his will, that you were alive?”
There was no answer, and, time after time, the question was repeated. Lady Rellingham got whiter and whiter, till her face was a pale ashy grey; but she made not even a suggestion in reply. At last came her whispered reply, “I cannot say.”
“Mr. Tempest, of course it’s quite possible—mind, I do not say it is so—but it is possible that the trust may have been created for the benefit of someone else, and Sir John may have changed his mind, when he became aware that his wife was still alive.”
Tempest listened in growing irritation as the judge helped the witness out of the pitfall he had dug so carefully for her, and curtly answered:
“That is a point I shall have to discuss at some length a little later;” and then, turning to the witness, he asked: “Did Sir John write this letter and this paper in your presence?”
“Yes, and handed them to me.”
“Where did this interview take place?”
“At his office.”
“How is it, then, that neither of Sir John’s partners nor any of the clerks in the office are aware of such an interview having taken place?”