X. THE WILL
I went to the Crawford house on the day of the funeral; but as I reached there somewhat earlier than the hour appointed, I went into the office with the idea of looking about for further clues.
In the office I found Gregory Hall; looking decidedly disturbed.
“I can't find Mr. Crawford's will,” he said, as he successively looked through one drawer after another.
“What!” I responded. “Hasn't that been located already?”
“No; it's this way: I didn't see it here in this office, or in the New York office, so I assumed Mr. Randolph had it in his possession. But it seems he thought it was here, all the time. Only this morning we discovered our mutual error, and Mr. Randolph concluded it must be in Mr. Crawford's safety deposit box at the bank in New York. So Mr. Philip Crawford hurried through his administration papers—he is to be executor of the estate—and went in to get it from the bank. But he has just returned with the word that it wasn't there. So we've no idea where it is.”
“Oh, well,” said I, “since he hadn't yet made the new will he had in mind, everything belongs to Miss Lloyd.”
“That's just the point,” said Hall, his face taking on a despairing look. “If we don't find that will, she gets nothing!”
“How's that?” I said.
“Why, she's really not related to the Crawfords. She's a niece of Joseph Crawford's wife. So in the absence of a will his property will all go to his brother Philip, who is his legal heir.”