“The foregoing instrument consisting of one page beside this was executed in our presence and in the presence of each of us on the twenty-fifth day of January, nineteen hundred and forty-two by Harlow Milbers, who then and there declared it to be his last will and testament, and requested us to sign as witnesses, which we did in his presence and in the presence of each other, all on this twenty-fifth day of January, nineteen hundred and forty-two. (signed) Josephine Dell, (signed) Paul Hanberry.”
Paul Hanberry was the first to break the silence. “Jumpin’ geewhillikins,” he said. “The old man left his property to us! Why, when he asked me to sign that as a witness, I had no more idea what was in that will — I supposed, of course, it left everything to his cousin.”
“You remember the occasion of signing the will as witness?” Bertha asked him.
He looked at her as though she might have been completely crazy. “Why, of course,” he said. “I remember that. I’d forgotten about the will part of it. It was here in the library on a Sunday afternoon. He’d had Josephine Dell out to the house here, taking some dictation, and I was washing the car out in the driveway under the window. She came to the window and beckoned for me to come in. When I got in, the boss was sitting there at the table, holding a pen. He said, ‘Paul, I’m going to sign my will. I want you and Josephine to sign as witnesses, and I want you to remember, in case anyone asks you, that I didn’t seem any more crazy than usual’ — or something like that. Anyway, that was the general effect of it.”
Christopher Milbers said, “That is, of course, very much in the nature of a shock to me. I can hardly imagine Harlow, my beloved cousin, adopting such an attitude. However, the fact remains that we are at present engaged in searching for ten thousand dollars which seems to have mysteriously disappeared under circumstances which, at least, point the finger of suspicion—”
“Wait a minute,” Nettie Cranning said suddenly. “We don’t have to take that from you.”
Christopher Milbers smiled, the superior smirking smile of one who takes pride in a mental agility which has trapped some fellow mortal. “I have not made any specific accusation, Mrs. Cranning. The fact that you seem to resent my comments indicates that at least in your own mind—”
He was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.
“See who that is,” Mrs. Cranning said to her daughter.
Eva went quickly to the front door.