Mrs. Agar's face lighted up.
“No,” she said, with ill-concealed delight; “I am certain there is no will.”
“Indeed! And why, my dear madam?”
“Well—oh, well, because Jem was just the sort of person to forget such matters. Besides, when he left England he was under age.”
The lawyer was looking at her with his usual sympathetic smile spread over his face like an actor's make-up, but his eyes were very keen and clever.
“Of course,” he observed, “he may have made one out there.”
“I do not think that it is likely,” replied the lady, whose small thoughts always came into the world in charge of a very obvious father in the shape of a wish. “There are no facilities out there—no lawyers.”
“There are quite a number of lawyers in India,” said Mr. Rigg, with sudden gravity. His face was only grave when he wished to fend off laughter.
“Well,” persisted Mrs. Agar, “I am sure Jem did not make a will.”
Mr. Rigg bowed and resumed his seat. He took up a penholder and smiled, presumably at his own sunny thoughts.