[CHAPTER III.]
"SAY, BETWEEN US THREE!"
Martin Fulmer uttered a deep sigh, and then gazing upon the representatives of Satan and of Mammon he said: "Gentlemen, you know the purpose for which you are here?"
"We do," they said, and each one laid his copy of the will on the table.
"The first thing in order, is the reading of the Will," said Martin Fulmer solemnly. And while a dead stillness pervaded, he read the will; and afterward briefly recounted the circumstances connected with the death of the testator.
When he had finished, the silence remained for some moments unbroken. The lights flashed upon the smart concealed visage of the financier,—the grand Satanic face of the statesman,—the calm face of Martin Fulmer, with the bold brow, and hair as white as snow; and as a breath of wind moved the lights, they flashed fitfully over the coffin, and the iron chest, the cedar pillars, and the marble image.
"There is no son in existence?" asked Israel nervously.
"None," answered Martin in a low voice.
"He did not die in a cause pre-eminent for its sanctity?" asked Gabriel in a deep voice.
"It cannot be said that he did," answered Martin, as though questioning his own conscience.