The gardener laughed—a horrible, croaking laugh that ended with a gasp of pain.
"You Lawyer Watson?" he cried, a moment later, in taunting tones. "Why, you old fool, Si Watson's as young as Master Tom—as young as I am! You—you Lawyer Watson! Ha, ha, ha!"
"Where is the paper?" demanded the lawyer fiercely.
James stared at him an instant, and then suddenly collapsed and fell back inert upon the bed.
"Have you heard all?" asked John Merrick, laying his hand on the lawyer's shoulder.
"Yes; I followed you here as soon as I could. Tom Bradley made another will, as he lay dying. I must have it, Mr. Merrick."
"Then you must find it yourself," said Donald gravely, "for James is dead."
The doctor, arriving a few minutes later, verified the statement. It was evident that the old gardener, for years insane, had been so influenced by Miss Merrick's death that he had wandered into the stables where he received his death blow. When he regained consciousness the mania had vanished, and in a shadowy way he could remember and repeat that last scene of the tragedy that had deprived him of his reason. The story was logical enough, and both Mr. Watson and John Merrick believed it.
"Tom Bradley was a level-headed fellow until he fell in love with your sister," said the lawyer to his companion. "But after that he would not listen to reason, and perhaps he had a premonition of his own sudden death, for he made a will bequeathing all he possessed to his sweetheart. I drew up the will myself, and argued against the folly of it; but he had his own way. Afterward, in the face of death, I believe he became more sensible, and altered his will."
"Yet James' story may all be the effect of a disordered mind," said
Uncle John.