Jack. Came to town this morning. (Clasp hands.)
Walter. Jack, I’m very ill. I haven’t been out of doors till last night for weeks. Nothing but work at what my father left me. He gave his lifetime to it and then left it to me. It ought to have been the invention of the age. I went on the spree last night, when the whole thing failed.
Jack. I have some news for you about your stepmother, Mrs. Everest. By the idiotic conditions of your late father’s will—if the old lady marries again before your birthday on Monday next the whole fortune he left becomes not yours but hers.
Walter. He meant it the other way about.
Jack. Yes, but that is how the will reads—instead of writing “He shall inherit,” your father wrote “she shall inherit.” She is the “she.” About forty-five thou., isn’t it?
Walter. Nearer fifty.
Jack. An adventurer named Potterfield has lately come to the village, found out about the will, made love to the old lady, got a special license, and is bringing her to town to marry her to-morrow.
Walter. What?
Jack. Stella is coming here directly. This wedding must be stopped or postponed.
Walter. Jack, something’s got to be done—suppose I were taken ill—very ill.