“You’re sartin that part’s true, are you?” broke in the captain.
Graves nodded, rather impatiently, and continued. “‘Of sound mind, memory and understanding, do make, publish and declare this to be my last will and testament, in manner following, that is to say:—
“‘First:—I direct my executor hereinafter named to pay my just debts and funeral expenses as soon as maybe convenient after my decease.’”
“Did he owe much, think likely?” asked Captain Elisha.
“Apparently not. Very little beyond the usual bills of a household.”
“Yes, yes. Grocer and butcher and baker and suchlike. Well, I guess they won’t have to put in a keeper. Heave ahead.”
“‘Second:—I give, devise and bequeath all my estate, both real and personal, to my brother, Elisha Warren, if he survive—’”
The captain gasped. “To me?” he cried, in utter amazement. “He leaves it to me? ’Bije leaves—say, Mr. Graves, there’s some mistake here somewhere, sure! And besides, you said—”
“Just a minute, Captain Warren, if you please. If you’ll be patient and not interrupt, I’ll try to make the whole matter plain.”
“Well, if you can do that, you’ll have King Solomon and all his wisdom beat a mile, that’s all I’ve got to say. Go on.”