“He was wiry,” the nurse said, “around fifty-five or sixty, I should judge, with gray eyes, and a weather-beaten face. He wore a tweed suit, and was smoking a pipe. He wore his hair rather long. It was brownish in color, faded somewhat, with streaks of gray at the temples, and...”
“Ned Barkler,” Phyllis Leeds exclaimed, and then clapped her hand to her lips as though wishing to recall the words.
Judge Treadwell turned to her. “You know him?” he asked.
“One of Uncle’s friends answers that description,” Phyllis Leeds said.
“One who has been co-operating with the other relatives?” Judge Treadwell asked, significantly.
“No, Your Honor— Of course, I can’t be sure that’s the man, but the description fits. — He’s an old prospecting pal of Uncle’s.”
“Where does he live?” Judge Treadwell asked.
“He’s been living in the house with Uncle Alden.”
Judge Treadwell’s face relaxed slightly. “Evidently,” he said, “the patient wasn’t quite as incompetent as you thought, Doctor.”
He turned to Phyllis Leeds and said, “I think you’ll find that your uncle is now at home. I suggest that you go there at once— As for you, Doctor, I feel that your refusal to produce Alden Leeds in court was an act in defiance of the court’s order. You will be ordered to appear and show cause why you should not be found guilty of contempt of court. I think that is all.”