“Oho!” I exclaimed. “This is a new development. But the will will turn up.”
“Oh, yes, I'm sure of it,” returned Hall, but his anxious face showed anything but confidence in his own words.
“But,” I went on, “didn't Philip Crawford object to his brother's giving all his fortune to Miss Lloyd?”
“It didn't matter if he did. Nobody could move Joseph Crawford's determination. And I fancy Philip didn't make any great disturbance about it. Of course, Mr. Joseph had a right to do as he chose with his own, and the will gave Philip a nice little sum, any way. Not much, compared to the whole fortune, but, still, a generous bequest.”
“What does Mr. Randolph say?”
“He's completely baffled. He doesn't know what to think.”
“Can it have been stolen?”
“Why, no; who would steal it? I only fear he may have destroyed it because he expected to make a different one. In that case, Florence is penniless, save for such bounty as Philip Crawford chooses to bestow on her.”
I didn't like the tone in which Hall said this. It was distinctly aggrieved, and gave the impression that Florence Lloyd, penniless, was of far less importance than Miss Lloyd, the heiress of her uncle's millions.
“But he would doubtless provide properly for her,” I said.