"You are a little excited, judge; what's the matter?"
"I am in a great perplexity, and I want your aid to get out of it, for I know that you knew George Wilson—didn't you?"
"Knew him? Yes, and know him perfectly well. He's a great friend of mine, I'm glad to believe."
"Hadn't you heard that he is dead?"
"Dead! It isn't possible—is it?"
"Yes; died night before last."
"How sudden! Is there any suspicion of something wrong about his death?"
"No; for he had been unwell for quite a while. He died of heart disease. You, perhaps, don't know that I was his attorney; but you do know how wretchedly he lived with that infamous son, William. A few months ago I drew Mr. Wilson's will. He had been so long complaining that he began to fear that he could not last long, and wanted to make all things secure for his niece, Nellie, who, by the will, was made legatee of nearly all his property, he leaving but a small annuity to his son—and—"
"But, here let me ask you if William knows about the provisions of the will?"
"Not that I know, for a surety; but let's see. I do remember that when the will was witnessed, we were disturbed by a slight noise, as of one disposed to obtrude; but I saw no one."