The huge Bible with its Doré illustrations lay on the marble-topped table in old Solon's bedroom. Scattergood opened it—found it stiff with lack of use, its pages clinging together as if their gilt edging had never been broken.... Bob leaned over Scattergood while the old man rapidly thumbed the pages.... He brought to light a pressed flower, and shrugged his shoulders. What moment of softness in the life of a hard old man did this flower commemorate?... A letter whose ink was faded to illegibility! Even Solon Beatty had once known the rose-leaf scent of romance.
"Nothing there," said Bob.
"The reason folks seldom find things," said Scattergood, "is that they say 'Nothin' there' before they've half looked.... They might be any quantity of things in this Bible that we hain't overhauled yet." The old man stood a moment frowning down at the book. "Births and deaths," he said to himself. "Births and deaths—and marryin's...." Rapidly he turned to the illumined pages on which were set down the family records of the Beattys. "Um!... Jest sich a place as he'd pick out.... What you make of this, Bob?"
Scattergood loosened a sheet of paper which had been lightly glued to the page. "Hain't got my specs, Bob."
The young lawyer read it, re-read it aloud. "I, Farley Curtis, one of the two legal heirs of Solon Beatty, of Coldriver Township, do hereby acknowledge the receipt of ten thousand dollars, the same to be considered an advance of my share of the said Solon Beatty's estate. For, and in consideration of the said ten thousand dollars I hereby waive all claims to any further participation in the said estate, and agree that I will not, whether the said Solon Beatty dies testate or intestate, make any claim against the said estate, nor upon Mary Beatty, who, by this advance to me, becomes sole heir to the said estate.'"
Bob drew a long breath. Scattergood stared owlishly at Mary Beatty.
"Now, what d'you think of that, eh? Shouldn't be s'prised if that was the i-dentical paper that was weighin' on the mind of young Mr. Curtis. Shouldn't be a mite s'prised if 'twas."
"What is it, Mr. Baines?" asked Mary Beatty. "A will?"
"Wa-al, offhand I'd say it was consid'able better 'n a will. Ya-as.... Wills kin be busted, but this here docyment—I calc'late it would take mighty powerful hammerin' to knock it apart."
"And, Mary," said Bob, "if I were you I shouldn't mention the finding of it."