“In case Ted simply can’t win a West Point cadetship,” replied Mr. Dunstan, “then, at the age of twenty-one, his promise will oblige him to enlist in the Army as a private soldier and do all in his power to win an officer’s commission from the ranks.”
“Even then, there’s a chance to fail,” hinted Tom.
“If the lad fails absolutely to get a commission in the Army,” responded Mr. Dunstan, “he will lose a lot of money—that’s all. There is another fund, amounting to two and a half million dollars, that is to be kept at interest until the young man is thirty. By that time the money, through compound interest, will be much more than doubled. On Ted’s thirtieth birthday all that huge sum of money is to be turned over to him if he has won, somehow, a commission as an officer of the Army. If he has tried, but failed, then the money is to be devoted to various public purposes.
“But if Ted fails to go into probate court on time, with myself or other guardian, and have the promise made a matter of record, then he loses everything. In that case I get the same hundred thousand dollars as otherwise, but Greg, instead of receiving only a hundred thousand is to get a cool million dollars.”
“Isn’t your brother Gregory likely to contest such a will?” asked Tom thoughtfully.
“The will provides that, if he does contest, he shall lose even his hundred thousand dollars,” Mr. Dunstan replied. “I have had great lawyers go all over the will, but they can’t find a single flaw through which it can be broken. You see, the will is right in line with what lawyers call ‘public policy.’ It’s altogether to the public interest to have the boys of our best old families, as of the best new ones, brought up with the idea that, they’re to give their lives to the service of their country. So the will is bound to stand against any contest, and if Greg or myself tried to break it we’d only cheat ourselves out of goodly sums of money.”
“Then Master Ted, of course,” pursued Tom, “has been or is going before the probate court to have the promise recorded.”
“To-day is Tuesday,” answered Mr. Dunstan. “The ninety days are up next Monday. On that day there will be a short session of probate court and Ted and I are going to be on hand.”
“Is this the first time probate court has been in session since the will was read, sir?” asked Halstead.
“Oh, no,” replied their employer in his most easy-going tone. “But there was no hurry and I wanted to give the lawyers plenty of time to consider the matter. Next Monday, being within the required ninety days, will do as well as any other time.”