The two men who formed what one may call the alien and impartial audience at that table were mutually and similarly impressed by a certain feature of Barthorpe Herapath’s speech—its exceeding malevolence. As he went on from sentence to sentence, his eyes continually turned to Mr. Tertius, who sat, composed and impassive, listening, and in them was a gleam which could not be mistaken—the gleam of bitter, personal dislike. Mr. Halfpenny and Professor Cox-Raythwaite both saw that look and drew their own conclusions, and when Barthorpe spat out his last words, the man of science turned to the man of law and muttered a sharp sentence in Latin which no one else caught. And Mr. Halfpenny nodded and muttered a word or two back before he turned to Barthorpe.
“Even supposing—mind, I only say supposing—even supposing you are correct in all you say—and I don’t know that you are,” he said, “what you have put before us does nothing to prove that the will which we have just inspected is not what we believe it to be—we, at any rate—the valid will of Jacob Herapath. You know as well as I do that you’d have to give stronger grounds than that before a judge and jury.”
“I’ll give you my grounds,” answered Barthorpe eagerly. He bent over the table in his eagerness, and the old lawyer suddenly realized that Barthorpe genuinely believed himself to be in the right. “I’ll give you my grounds without reserve. Consider them—I’ll check them off, point by point—you can follow them:
“First. It was well known—to me, at any rate, that my uncle Jacob Herapath, had never made a will.
“Second. Is it not probable that if he wanted to make a will he would have employed me, who had acted as his solicitor for fifteen years?
“Third. I had a conversation with him about making a will just under a year ago, and he then said he’d have it done, and he mentioned that he should divide his estate equally between me and my cousin there.
“Fourth. Mr. Burchill here absolutely denies all knowledge of this alleged will.
“Fifth. My uncle’s handwriting, as you all know, was exceedingly plain and very easy to imitate. Burchill’s handwriting is similarly plain—of the copperplate sort—and just as easy to imitate.
“Sixth. That man across there is an expert forger! I have the account of his trial at Lancaster Assizes—the evidence shows that his work was most expert. Is it likely that his hand should have lost its cunning—even after several years?
“Seventh. That man there had every opportunity of forging this will. With his experience and knowledge it would be a simple matter to him. He did it with the idea of getting everything into the hands of his own daughter, of defrauding me of my just rights. Since my uncle’s death he has made two attempts to see Burchill privately—why? To square him, of course! And——”