"The witness gave his name as James Triscott, solicitor, of Warwick Avenue. He said that he had known the deceased slightly, having seen him on business in connection with the lease of 73, Malvine Mansions, the landlord being a client of his. On the previous Friday, that is, the twenty-fourth, witness received a note written in a crabbed hand and signed, 'A. Thornton Ashley,' asking him to call at Malvine Mansions any time during the day. This Mr. Triscott did that same afternoon. The door was opened by Mr. Charles Ashley whom he had also met once or twice before, who showed him into the room where the deceased lay in bed, obviously very ill, but perfectly conscious and reasonable.
"'After some preliminary talk,' the witness went on, 'the deceased explained to me that he was troubled in his mind about a will which he had made some four years previously, and which had struck him of late as being both harsh and unjust. He desired to make a new will, revoking the previous one. I naturally told him that I was entirely at his service, and he then dictated his wishes to me. I made notes and promised to have the will ready for his signature by Monday. The thought of this delay annoyed him considerably, and he pressed me hard to have everything ready for him by the next day. Unfortunately, I couldn't do that. I was obliged to go off into the country that evening on business for another client, and couldn't possibly be back before midday Saturday, when my clerk and typist would both be gone. All I could do was to promise faithfully to call again on Monday at eleven o'clock with the will quite ready for signature. I said I would bring my clerk with me, who could then sign as a witness.
"'I quite saw the urgency of the business,' Mr. Triscott went on in his brisk, rather consequential way, 'as the poor old gentleman certainly looked very ill. Before I left he asked me to let him at least have a copy of my notes before I went away this evening. This I was able to promise him. I got my clerk to copy the notes and to take them round to the flat later on in the day.'
"I can assure you," the Old Man in the Corner said, "that while that dapper little man was talking, you might have heard the proverbial pin drop amongst the public. You see, this was the first that any one had ever heard of any alteration in old Ashley's will, and Mr. Triscott's evidence opened up a vista of exciting situations that was positively dazzling. When he ceased speaking, you might almost have heard the sensation-mongers licking their chops like a lot of cats after a first bite at a succulent meal; glances were exchanged, but not a word spoken, and presently a sigh of eagerness went round when the coroner put the question which every one had been anticipating:
"'Have you got the notes, Mr. Triscott, which you took from the late Mr. Thornton Ashley's dictation?'
"At which suggestion Mr. Oldwall jumped up, objecting that such evidence was inadmissible. There was some legal argument between him and the coroner, during which Mr. Triscott, still standing in the witness-box, beamed at his colleague and at the public generally through his spectacles. In the end the jury decided the point by insisting on having the notes read out to them.
"Briefly, by the provisions of the new will, which was destined never to be signed, the miser left his entire fortune, with the exception of the same trifling legacies and of an annuity of a thousand pounds a year to Philip, to his son Charles absolutely, in grateful recognition for years of unflagging devotion to an eccentric and crabbed invalid. Mr. Triscott explained that on the Monday morning he had the document quite ready by eleven o'clock, and that he walked round with it to Malvine Mansions, accompanied by his clerk. Great was his distress when he was met at the door by Charles Ashley, who told him that old Mr. Thornton Ashley was dead.
"That was the substance of Mr. Triscott's evidence, and I can assure you that even I was surprised at the turn which events had taken. You know what the sensation-mongers are; within an hour of the completion of Mr. Triscott's evidence, it was all over London that Mr. Philip Ashley had murdered his father in order to prevent his signing a will that would deprive him—Philip—of a fortune. That is the way of the world," the funny creature added with a cynical smile. "Philip's popularity went down like a sail when the wind suddenly drops, and in a moment public sympathy was all on the side of Charles, who had been done out of a fortune by a grasping and unscrupulous brother.
"But there was more to come.
"The next witness called was Mrs. Triscott, the wife of the dapper little solicitor, and her presence here in connection with the death of old Thornton Ashley seemed as surprising at first as that of her husband had been. She looked a hard, rather common, but capable woman, and after she had replied to the coroner's preliminary questions, she plunged into her story in a quiet, self-assured manner. She began by explaining that she was a trained nurse, but had given up her profession since her marriage. Now and again, however, either in an emergency or to oblige a friend, she had taken care of a patient.