"De mortuis," said the prelate. "Besides, now we're going to canonize him, willy nilly."
"With any luck," smiled the Judge. "Can you send for the document?"
Ruefully Monseigneur Forest shook his head.
"I must go for it," he said. "I must return at once. It's the least I can do. 'Without a penny,' you said? Poor fellow. I was going into the country to-morrow, to stay with my niece. But that must wait."
"We haven't found him yet," said his lordship.
"That may be the deuce of a business. Of course, now our hands are free. With the will located, we can advertise. I think, perhaps, though, we'd better wait till we've produced it to the solicitors."
The priest agreed heartily. Then he counted upon his fingers. After a moment's calculation—
"I'm not as young as I was," he said, "but, if all goes well, I'll meet you here a week from to-day with the will in my pocket."
Tea and the comparison of notes upon matters of moment, other than the fortunes of Anthony, occupied another half-hour, when, after exchanging addresses, the two men parted, pledged to meet again in seven days' time.
The Judge walked home thoughtfully.