"I have always held that woman is a frivolous animal. A woman who pretends to be serious is wasting her time and spoiling her appearance. I consider that you have wasted your time to a really shocking extent. Accordingly, I intend to conceal this will, and that in such a manner that you will certainly never find it unless by the exercise of a sustained frivolity.
"I hope you will contrive to be frivolous enough to become the heiress of your affectionate
"Uncle Meleager."
"Couldn't we use that letter as proof of the testator's intention, and fight the will?" asked Mary anxiously.
"'Fraid not," said Lord Peter. "You see, there's no evidence here that the will was ever actually drawn up. Though I suppose we could find the witnesses."
"We've tried," said Miss Marryat, "but, as you see, Uncle Meleager was travelling abroad at the time, and he probably got some obscure people in some obscure Italian town to witness it for him. We advertised, but got no answer."
"H'm. Uncle Meleager doesn't seem to have left things to chance. And, anyhow, wills are queer things, and so are the probate and divorce wallahs. Obviously the thing to do is to find the other will. Did the clues he speaks of turn up among his papers?"
"We hunted through everything. And, of course, we had the whole house searched from top to bottom for the will. But it was quite useless."
"You've not destroyed anything, of course. Who were the executors of the Primrose League will?"
"Mother and Mr. Sands, Uncle Meleager's solicitor. The will left mother a silver tea-pot for her trouble."