"Yes—I guess he didn't sleep much that night. He's waited long enough."

"Waited!" ejaculated the other. "Why, he has thought of nothing else—sleeping or waking. If anything should happen to rob him of that inheritance I think it would kill him."

"Ain't much chance of that," replied the lawyer, puffing out his chest. "I drew up the will. When Bascom Cooley attends to a thing, it's likely to be for keeps. The will was witnessed and executed right in my presence, so there isn't any question about it. The will is now in our safe-deposit vaults. That is why I must go back immediately. Nothing can be done until I return. By the time I reach New York, the funeral will be over. Then we can read the will."

Bascom Cooley, who for many years had looked after the late John Marsh's interests, and to-day was one of Jimmy Marsh's closest cronies, was one of the most widely known criminal lawyers in the United States. His reputation was not of the best, but he was prosperous and the world forgives much to the successful man. Shrewd, utterly unprincipled, all kinds of questionable yet profitable legal business came his way, and thanks to a brilliant talent, and a domineering, blustering manner which intimidated judge and jury alike, he usually contrived to score a victory for his client. It is true that only the guilty went to him. Law breakers knew that if Bascom Cooley could not help them escape the consequences of their misdeeds no one else could. He was known to be a crooked lawyer. Corrupt practices, flagrant dishonesty, shameless perjury of which he had been guilty had often been hinted at, yet none dare attack him openly. His mysterious influence with the big political leaders made him a man to be feared. It was Cooley's boast that the law could not touch him. When it was seen that by the powerful influence behind him he could break policemen, smother indictments, muzzle the authorities, and make and unmake judges at will, the public began to believe him.

He was born in New York City, of Irish parents. His father was a policeman who, thanks to political pull, was able to reach a captaincy. His salary and perquisites enabled him to give his son a better education than he himself had received, and when it came to the choosing of a career, Bascom decided on law. He was admitted to the Bar and began practice in the ninth ward where he had the advantage of his father's influence. A chip of the old block, he realized early in life the power of money. He resolved to be successful, no matter by what means, and with this determination constantly in mind it is not surprising that he soon became involved in all kinds of shady schemes, all looking to the fattening of his bank roll. In a single notorious real-estate deal—the purchase of land for the purpose of a public park—he robbed the city of nearly $250,000. That is to say, it was shown that the price the city was compelled to pay for the land was exactly $250,000 more than it was worth. Not that he himself got all the money. He did not expect that. More than half of the spoils in the gigantic, bare-faced steal, went to the men higher up, to those in the inner ring of boodle politicians, a shameless coterie of rascals who at once brought to bear all the power of the System to shield Bascom Cooley from prosecution and themselves from exposure and disgrace. Laughing at threats of disbarment, snapping his fingers at the hue and cry in the newspapers, Mr. Cooley went his way, stealing, perjuring himself, openly defying public opinion.

The news of John Marsh's death was most welcome to Mr. Cooley. He was taking a vacation in Europe and enjoying the sights of Paris when his New York office notified him of what had occurred, and he cabled that he would return at once. For a long time the wily attorney had had his eye on the Marsh millions. Otherwise, how explain his close friendship for Jimmy Marsh? Such a poor, weak fool could have nothing in common with the famous lawyer whose brain teemed only with big schemes. If he tolerated Jimmy, and dined and wined him and got him elected at his club when no other club would admit him, it was with a purpose distinctly Machiavellian in view. When Jimmy's financial affairs reached an acute crisis it was always Mr. Cooley who obligingly bridged the chasm. Jimmy, as already hinted, had borrowed freely on his prospects. Cooley was nearly always the lender. Now the time had come to settle, and Mr. Cooley promised himself not only to get back his own, plus interest, but a substantial bonus besides. He knew a few things about Jimmy Marsh—things Jimmy would rather not have the world, and especially the yellow newspapers, know. And no doubt Jimmy would pay up like a man. The money had come at a most convenient time. He had some big deals on hand and needed cash badly. Things could not have turned out better. He would go back at once and get in touch with things. It was while he was hurrying from his hotel to go and secure his passage home by the first steamer that he stumbled across Tod, who cheerfully accepted his invitation to drink to the health of the inheritance.

Tod, who had been silent for a few minutes, apparently lost in thought, suddenly blurted out:

"What gets me is that the old man left Jimmy any money at all! They never saw each other. The old man utterly disapproved of his brother's way of living, and had nothing to do with him."

"There was no one else to whom he could leave it—that's why," replied the lawyer. "John Marsh," he went on, "was a peculiar man. He was distant and reserved, I might say secretive—even with me, his legal adviser. No one knew the real workings of his mind. I drew up his will according to a rough draft, written by him."

"When was that?"