"No. He just mentioned it, that's all," said Durgin. "The letter was most about ducks."
"This is too bad," Garrison declared. "Have you any idea in the world where the will may be?"
"No, I haven't."
"You found nothing of it, or anything to give you a hint, when you claimed the body for burial, and examined his possessions in Hickwood?"
"No."
"Where was Dorothy then?"
"I don't know. She's always looked after Foster more than me, he being the weak one and most in need."
Desperate for more information. Garrison probed in every conceivable direction, but elicited nothing further of importance, save that an old-time friend of Hardy's, one Israel Snow, a resident of Rockdale, might perhaps be enabled to assist him.
Taking leave of Durgin, who offered his hand and expressed a deep-lying hope that something could be done to clear all suspicion from his brother, Garrison returned to Rockdale.
The news of a will made recently, a will concerning which Dorothy knew nothing,—this was so utterly disconcerting that it quite overshadowed, for a time, the equally important factor in the case supplied by Durgin's tale concerning this unknown Hiram Cleave.