"Twenty-five years ago."
Tod gave vent to an expressive whistle.
"So Jimmy has been waiting twenty-five years?"
"Yes," said the lawyer, "twenty-five years—the average span of human life."
"Suppose he has made another will since? Did Jimmy ever think of that?"
Mr. Cooley shrugged his shoulders.
"No—no danger of that. Why should he? If he had, wouldn't I know of it? I have always remained on the best of terms with the old gentleman. I have attended to other legal business for him, so if he did change his mind in regard to the disposition of his estate, why wouldn't he come to me? No, I don't think so. He kept aloof from his brother, but it's no more than he did from anyone else. The man was eccentric—peculiar—you must let it go at that."
"What was the old beggar worth? Have you any idea?"
"Twenty years ago he was several times a millionaire. What he has done with the money, how he has invested it, I can't say. But he was no spendthrift. There'll be enough to go round, I promise you that." Draining his glass, he added: "I suppose you'll give up this automobile business now, and go back and do some fancy figure skating on Broadway. There's more fun in that, eh?"
Tod shook his head.