He did so, while the elder Kinsall rubbed his hands. He paused to reflect, with benevolent satisfaction, what a happy chance it was that his first name, while bearing the same initial as his brother's, still came first in index sequence, so that this decayed solicitor, searching the telephone directory for putative kin of the late Sir Joseph, had rung him up first. What might have happened had their alphabetical order been different, Walter at that moment hated to think.
"Your cheque has been cleared," said the Saint, returning from the telephone; and Walter beamed.
"Then, Mr. Penwick, you have only to hand me the will—"
Simon knit his brows.
"The situation is rather difficult," he began; and suddenly Walter's face blackened.
"What the devil do you mean — difficult?" he rasped. "You've had your money. Are you trying—"
"You see," Simon explained, "your brother has been in to see me."
Walter gaped at him apoplectically for a space; and then he took a threatening step forward.
"You filthy double-crossing—"
"Wait a minute," said the Saint. "I think this is Willie coming back."