Lady Wynde’s sharp eyes did not fail to perceive the unfavorable impression she had made. She bit her lip fiercely, and her cheeks flushed hotly. Her brows arched themselves superciliously, and Mr. Atkins, marking her impatience, hastened to answer:
“Sir Harold left a will, my lady. It was drawn up at my office at Canterbury upon the day on which he left England for India. You will remember that he left Hawkhurst in the morning and drove to Canterbury. He came direct to my office, and dictated and signed his will. He then proceeded directly to the station and went by train to Dover, and crossed to Calais. The will was left in my keeping and is, there can be no question, the last will and testament of Sir Harold Wynde.”
“I presume no one will care to question the will,” said Lady Wynde coldly, “although Sir Harold was in a very excited frame of mind that morning, on account of the news of his son’s illness, and the pain of leaving his home and me. Nevertheless, I dare say he was quite competent to dictate a will. I sent you the particulars of Sir Harold’s death, with some of the letters detailing the sad event which I have received from India. There being no possible doubt of his awful fate, it is time to prove his will. I wish you to give me some idea of its contents.”
The solicitor drew out a long leathern pocket-book and took from it a neatly folded paper.
“I have here a copy of the will,” he said briefly. “Is it your ladyship’s wish to have the will formally read, in the presence of witnesses?”
“No, that is unnecessary. Leave out the usual useless preamble and tell me what disposition my husband made of his property—the freehold farms, the money in bank, the consols, the bonds and mortgages? All these he was free to leave to whom he pleased. I desire to know to whom he did leave them.”
There was a greediness in the looks and tones of Lady Wynde that chilled Atkins. In her anxiety to learn the contents of the will, her ladyship half dropped her mask and displayed something of her true character, and he was quick to read it.
“Sir Harold Wynde, in expectation of the death of his son and heir,” replied Atkins, in his most formal tones, “bequeathed all the property you have mentioned, all his real and personal property, to his daughter, Miss Neva Wynde.”
“All to her?” muttered Lady Wynde. “All, you say?”
“All, my lady. Miss Wynde also inherits Hawkhurst and the entailed property. She is one of the richest heiresses in England.”