Two near neighbors were sent for and witnessed Dr. Crawford’s signature to the will.
There was a strangely triumphant look in Mrs. Crawford’s eyes as she took the document after it had been duly executed.
“You will let me keep this, doctor?” she asked. “It will be important for your son as well as myself, that it should be in safe hands.”
“Yes; I shall be glad to have you do so. I rejoice that it is off my mind.”
“You won’t think me mercenary, my dear husband, or indifferent to your life?”
“No; why should I?”
“Then I am satisfied.”
Mrs. Crawford took the will, and carrying it upstairs, opened her trunk, removed the false bottom, and deposited under it the last will and testament of Dr. Paul Crawford.
“At last!” she said to herself. “I am secure, and have compassed what I have labored for so long.”
Dr. Crawford had not noticed that the will to which he affixed his signature was not the same that had been read to him. Mrs. Crawford had artfully substituted another paper of quite different tenor. By the will actually executed, the entire estate was left to Mrs. Crawford, who was left guardian of her son and Carl, and authorized to make such provision for each as she might deem suitable. This, of course, made Carl entirely dependent on a woman who hated him.