“Supposing I agreed to it,” he said, cautiously, “I haven’t any skill in imitating writing. I couldn’t write a will that would look like father’s.”
“Only the signature would need to resemble his handwriting,” said White. “I’m pretty good at imitating signatures myself,” he added, carelessly. “Have you got any of the old man’s writing?”
“Yes; I’ve got a letter here,” said Brackett, going to his desk and producing one from a drawer.
“That could be imitated easily,” said White, after a casual examination.
“I’ll leave you two to talk business at your leisure,” said Mrs. Brackett. “I must go upstairs and look after the children.”
Her brother looked after her with a mocking smile.
“Lucinda’s sharp and cautious,” he remarked. “She thinks it best not to know anything about it, though she’ll be ready enough to profit by it. Come, now, Brackett, I’ve a proposal to make.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll draw up such a will as you think best, and sign and witness it.”
“That’s very kind of you, George——”