“New York City, borough of Manhattan, State of New York. I, Donald Joshua Pendleton, being of sound mind and––”
Donald Pendleton, Jr., waved an objection with his cigarette.
“Can’t you cut out all the legal stuff and just give me the gist of it? There’s no doubt about father having been of sound mind and so forth.”
“It is customary––” began the attorney.
“Well, we’ll break the custom,” Don cut in sharply.
Barton glanced up. It might have been his late client speaking; it gave him a start.
“As you wish,” he assented. “Perhaps, however, I may be allowed to observe that in many ways your father’s will is peculiar.”
“It wouldn’t be father’s will if it wasn’t peculiar,” declared Don.
Barton pushed the papers away from him.
“Briefly, then,” he said, “your father leaves his entire estate to you––in trust.”