“I didn’t think it possible,” he said, “that Jeremiah Brackett would stoop to such a crime.”
“I believe it is Mr. White who has put him up to it,” said Andy.
“Perhaps you are right. At any rate, this confirms me in my resolution to go away. Next week, Henry, we will leave the old farm, where I have spent so many years, and in your mother’s house I will spend the short time that remains to me.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, Uncle Simon. I shall be very glad to get away myself.”
“It is no longer safe for me to stay here,” said the old man. “Once this will is forged, they will be impatient for me to die. As for their wicked scheming, it will avail them nothing. My true will is made, and in the hands of my lawyer, and is later than the date they have selected for the pretended one.”
It was well that Mr. Dodge could not foresee the trying experience that awaited him before he could sunder the bonds that bound him to the old farm.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A CUNNING PLOT.
George White was a skillful penman—at one time he had been a bookkeeper—and he had no difficulty in drafting a will which might easily have passed for the genuine last will and testament of Simon Dodge.
It was shown to Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, and both were well satisfied with it.