“Colonel Capel had been a great part of his life in the East, Mr Artis,” said the old lawyer, coldly. “He had had the matter in his mind for some time.”
“How do you know that?”
“By the date on my instructions, which also contained the Italian professor’s card.”
“And I suppose we shall have a very eccentric will, sir.”
“Yes,” said the lawyer quietly, “a very eccentric will.”
“Come, that’s refreshing,” said the young man with a fidgetty movement. “Well, you are not very communicative, Mr Girtle. You family solicitors are as close as your deed boxes.”
“Yes,” said the old lawyer, closing his gold snuff-box with a loud snap.
“Well, come, it can be no breach of confidence to tell us when the funeral is to be?”
The old lawyer took a turn or two up and down the room, snuff-box in hand, the bright metal glistening as he swung his hand to and fro. Then he stopped short, and said slowly:
“The successor to Colonel Capel’s enormous property will inherit under extremely peculiar conditions, duly set forth in the will it will be my duty to read to you.”