“And he stands for it because Miss Vernon did it! That baby! Who’d think her capable of such a thing?”
“Hush, Mr. Courtenay. You’ve no right to accuse her. You’ve no evidence that she did it. In fact, I’m told Miss Vernon writes a large, dashing hand, and this——”
“And Eric Stannard’s hand is small and cramped. Yes, a clever forgery. It looks quite a bit like his own writing. But the ink is different, the slant is different, why, a half blind man could see the words have been changed!”
“Granting that. What matter, if Barry Stannard doesn’t care? Moreover, he is going to marry Miss Vernon, and the fortune will be theirs jointly.”
“But don’t you see? If Natalie Vernon altered that will, she wanted that larger sum, and—she——”
“Don’t say it. At least, don’t say it to me. If you want to put the matter up to Barry, go ahead. But I decline to express an opinion or form a conclusion.”
“What does Barry say?”
“He ignores it. I called his attention to it, and he said, ‘Changed figures? Oh, I guess not. It doesn’t matter, anyway; that, and more, will be at Miss Vernon’s disposal some day.’ So I said no more.”
Eugene Courtenay went straight to Joyce.
“Do you know anything about a changed figure in Eric’s will?” he asked, bluntly.