“Do you realize, my dear, that you and your sisters are the only living, and direct, relatives of Mr. Peter Stower?”
Ruth stared at him. She felt that her throat was dry, and she could not bring her tongue into play. She merely shook her head slowly.
“Through your mother, my dear, you and your sisters will inherit your Great Uncle Peter’s property. It is considerable. With the old Corner House and the tenement property in Milton, bonds and cash in bank, it amounts to—approximately—a hundred thousand dollars.”
“But—but——Aunt Sarah!” gasped Ruth, in surprise.
“Ahem! your Aunt Sarah was really no relative of the deceased.”
Here Aunt Sarah spoke up for the first time, her knitting needles clicking. “I thank goodness I was not,” she said. “My father was a Maltby, but Mr. Stower, Peter’s father, always wished me to be called by his name. He always told my mother he should provide for me. I have, therefore, looked to the Stower family for my support. It was and is my right.”
She tossed her head and pursed her lips again.
“Yes,” said Mr. Howbridge. “I understand that the elder Mr. Stower died intestate—without making a will, my dear,” he added, speaking again to Ruth. “If he ever expressed his intention of remembering your Aunt Sarah with a legacy, Mr. Peter Stower did not consider it mandatory upon him.”
“But of course Uncle Peter has remembered Aunt Sarah in his will?” questioned the dazed Ruth.
“He most certainly did,” said Mr. Howbridge, more briskly. “His will was fully and completely drawn. I drew it myself, and I still have the notes in the old man’s handwriting, relating to the bequests. Unfortunately,” added the lawyer, with a return to a grave manner, “the actual will of Mr. Peter Stower cannot be found.”