But I resumed my attention to the coroner's inquiries of Mr. Randolph.
In answer to a few formal questions, he stated that he had been Mr. Crawford's legal adviser for many years, and had entire charge of all such matters as required legal attention.
“Did you draw up the late Mr. Crawford's will?” asked the coroner.
“Yes; after the death of his wife—about twelve years ago.”
“And what were the terms of that will?”
“Except for some minor bequests, the bulk of his fortune was bequeathed to Miss Florence Lloyd.”
“Have you changed that will in any way, or drawn a later one?”
“No.”
It was by the merest chance that I was looking at Gregory Hall, as the lawyer gave this answer.
It required no fine perception to understand the look of relief and delight that fairly flooded his countenance. To be sure, it was quickly suppressed, and his former mask of indifference and preoccupation assumed, but I knew as well as if he had put it into words, that he had trembled lest Miss Lloyd had been disinherited before her uncle had met his death in the night.