Carmen hesitated a moment, and then said, in an inquiring tone, “I suppose the first thing is the will. He told me long ago that his will was made. I suppose it is in the safe. Didn't you draw it, Mr. Sage?”
“Oh yes,” the lawyer replied, leaning back in his chair, “I drew that; a long time ago; shortly after your marriage. And about a year ago I drew another one. Did he ever speak of that?”
“No,” Carmen replied, with a steady voice, but trembling inwardly at her narrow escape.
“I wonder,” continued Mr. Sage, “if it was ever executed? He took it, and said he would think it over.”
“Executed?” queried Carmen, looking up. “How do you mean, before a magistrate?”
“Oh, no; signed and witnessed. It is very simple. The law requires two witnesses; the testator and the witnesses must declare that they sign in the presence of each other. The witnesses prove the will, or, if they are dead, their signatures can be proved. I was one of the witnesses of the first will, and a clerk of Henderson's, who is still in his office, was the other.”
“The last one is probably in the safe if it was executed.”
“Probably,” the lawyer assented. “If not, you'd better look for it in the house.”
“Of course. Whether it exists or not, I want to carry out my husband's intention,” Carmen said, sweetly. “Have you any memorandum of it?”
“I think so, somewhere, but the leading provisions are in my mind. It would astonish the public.”