"Your late husband's last will and testament, in which he bequeaths this estate to his son John, here present."
"Where's the will?"
"Here," said the lawyer, producing it.
"Will you let me see it?"
"Excuse me, but it must remain in my possession till it is publicly read."
"What reason have I for believing this to be a genuine document?" said Mrs. Oakley, harshly. It was foolish thus to contend, and she knew it; but it angered her that by the document she should be stripped of two-thirds of what she had come to look upon as her own.
"I am prepared to swear that it is the will which I drew up for your husband three months before his death."
"I suppose I am not to ask how it came into your possession?" said Mrs. Oakley. "If it was concealed in this house, some one must have entered illegally, and made a secret search."
Mrs. Oakley fixed her eyes upon John, feeling satisfied that he had entered the house on the day she left her keys out, and opened the drawer.