“That is all, gentlemen, unless any of you wish to ask me any questions; in which case I shall answer, of course, to the best of my power. I shall ask you, Sir Colin, to remain with me, as we have to deal with some matters, or to arrange a time when we may meet to do so. And you also, Mr. Sent Leger, as there is this letter to submit to you. It is necessary that you should open it in the presence of the executors, but there is no necessity that anyone else should be present.”
The first to speak was my father. Of course, as a county gentleman of position and estate, who is sometimes asked to take the chair at Sessions—of course, when there is not anyone with a title present—he found himself under the duty of expressing himself first. Old MacKelpie has superior rank; but this was a family affair, in which my father is Head of the House, whilst old MacKelpie is only an outsider brought into it—and then only to the distaff side, by the wife of a younger brother of the man who married into our family. Father spoke with the same look on his face as when he asks important questions of witnesses at Quarter Sessions.
“I should like some points elucidated.” The attorney bowed (he gets his 120 thou’, any way, so he can afford to be oily—suave, I suppose he would call it); so father looked at a slip of paper in his hand and asked:
“How much is the amount of the whole estate?”
The attorney answered quickly, and I thought rather rudely. He was red in the face, and didn’t bow this time; I suppose a man of his class hasn’t more than a very limited stock of manners:
“That, sir, I am not at liberty to tell you. And I may say that I would not if I could.”
“Is it a million?” said father again. He was angry this time, and even redder than the old attorney. The attorney said in answer, very quietly this time:
“Ah, that’s cross-examining. Let me say, sir, that no one can know that until the accountants to be appointed for the purpose have examined the affairs of the testator up to date.”
Mr. Rupert St. Leger, who was looking all this time angrier than even the attorney or my father—though at what he had to be angry about I can’t imagine—struck his fist on the table and rose up as if to speak, but as he caught sight of both old MacKelpie and the attorney he sat down again. Mem.—Those three seem to agree too well. I must keep a sharp eye on them. I didn’t think of this part any more at the time, for father asked another question which interested me much:
“May I ask why the other matters of the Will are not shown to us?” The attorney wiped his spectacles carefully with a big silk bandanna handkerchief before he answered: