“I don’t think there is anything unsealed that should have been.”
“A very strange scene, the final one, Mr. Stephen.”
“Awful, awful, Mr. Hudsley. My poor uncle seemed quite delirious at the last.”
“Hem!” grunted the old lawyer, putting his hat to his lips and looking over it at the white, smooth face. “You think he was delirious——”
“Don’t you, Mr. Hudsley? Do you think that he was conscious of what he was saying? You have been his legal adviser and confidant for years; you would know whether there was any meaning in his wild and incoherent statement about the will. As you are no doubt aware, my poor uncle never broached the subject of his intentions to me.”
“I know of only one will—that of last year. That will I executed for him; it is the will locked up in the safe up-stairs. I have a copy at the office,” he added, dryly.
“You—you don’t think there is any other—any other later will?” he asked, softly.
“I didn’t think so until an hour ago. I am not sure that I think so now. Do you?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “My uncle was not the man to draw up a will with his own hand, and his confidence, and I may say affection for you, were so great that he would not have gone to any other legal adviser to do it for him. No, I do not think there is any other will; of course, I do not know the contents of the will in the safe.”
“Of course not,” said Mr. Hudsley, in a tone so dry that it seemed to rasp his throat.