The old man began to examine the smaller of the two papers. As he leaned forward to bring it within the range of the low light, his lips began to mutter disdainfully.
Grant Chadwick preferred his own company to that of any other person; hence it was not strange that he should speak aloud when alone, for the only one with whom he conferred was himself.
"Two thousand dollars," he said. "Bah! An old fool — that is what I am. Interest on it, yes"
— his eyes gleamed at the thought — "but no security. The principal is as good as lost. Waiting -
that's what he's doing. Waiting. I know his game. I'll fix it — "
The old man's lips were moving, but he was not talking now. He laid the small slip of paper upon the dictionary and fumbled along the seat of the chair until he found a lead pencil.
Taking the large sheet of paper, he began to check off words which appeared upon it, in scrawly writing:
I, Ulysses Grant Chadwick, considering the uncertainty of this mortal life and being of sound mind and memory, do make and publish this my last will and testament, in manner and form following, that is to say -
There the old man stopped. He leaned back against the propped pillow, holding the paper in his scrawny hands.
"What will Cromwell say when he reads this!" he laughed. "What will he say! He used to tell me that I was the wisest man who ever came into his law office. Wise, because I have had the same will laying there for these twenty years. Now, what will he say!"