Joseph drew in his breath; his teeth ground together for a moment; his eyes grew very wide. With a smile Scawthorne proceeded to explain that Jane’s trustees were Mr. Percival, senior, and his son. Should she die unmarried before attaining her twenty-first birthday, the money bequeathed to her was to be distributed among certain charities.
‘It’s my belief there’s a crank in the old fellow,’ exclaimed Joseph. ‘Is he really such a fool as to think Jane won’t use the money for herself? And what about Kirkwood? I tell you what it is; he’s a deep fellow, is Kirkwood. I wish you knew him.’
Scawthorne confessed that he had the same wish, but added that there was no chance of its being realised; prudence forbade any move in that direction.
‘If he marries her,’ questioned Joseph, ‘will the money be his?’
‘No; it will be settled on her. But it comes to very much the same thing; there’s to be no restraint on her discretion in using it.’
‘She might give her affectionate parent a hundred or so now and then, if she chose?’
‘If she chose.’
Scawthorne began a detailed inquiry into the humanitarian projects of which Joseph had given but a rude and contemptuous explanation. The finer qualities of his mind enabled him to see the matter in quite a different light from that in which it presented itself to Jane’s father; he had once or twice had an opportunity of observing Michael Snowdon at the office, and could realise in a measure the character which directed its energies to such an ideal aim. Concerning Jane he asked many questions; then the conversation turned once more to Sidney Kirkwood.
‘I wish he’d married his old sweetheart,’ observed Joseph, watching the other’s face.
‘Who was that?’