“But he was very much in love with Miss Lindsay,” Lane explained the situation, “and as he had no expectation of this immediate death, he hoped to make her his wife. But, he told me this when I drew up his will—he provided for Miss Lindsay in case of premature death or accident to himself. I feel sure he hoped to win Miss Lindsay’s promise to be his wife—if he had not already done so.”
“He had not!” exclaimed Phyllis, but she looked thoughtful rather than indignant at the idea.
“If he found that he could not do so,” Lane went on, “he planned to change his will. It was, I think, tentative, and dependent on the course of his wooing.”
“Never mind all that,” said Phyllis, speaking slowly and a little hesitantly; “the will is valid and final, is it not?”
“Certainly,” returned Lane, but he gave her a searching glance.
“Then half the money is mine, and half Millicent’s,” Phyllis went on, still with that thoughtful manner. “Don’t worry, Buddy, I’ll give you part of my share.” She looked at her brother with fond affection.
“I suppose it’s all right,” Millicent said, her glance at Phyllis a little resentful. “It would have been quite all right, if Phyllis had meant to marry my brother—but she had no such intention!”
“You don’t know——” began the girl.
“I do know,” declared Millicent. “And what’s more, if you had any hand in his murder——”
“Oh, hush!” cried Fred Lane, shocked even more at Millicent’s look than at her words.