“Who says so?”
“The will itself.”
“Somebody stole it.”
“That does not matter. There is a copy on file in the probate’s office. You have criminally disobeyed the injunctions of that will, Mrs. Ritchie, and applied such moneys as you have received, to your own personal use, instead of to the support and education of Toby Clark.”
“Toby Clark’s a thief, and he’ll go to prison for stealing my box,” she snapped.
“We will not discuss Toby now,” said Mr. Spaythe. “Your own case demands your first attention. The governor will tell you the legal penalty for embezzling trust funds.”
“State’s prison,” said the governor.
“Shucks! Tell him he lies, Abner Kellogg,” cried the woman.
“The governor is entirely correct, madam,” answered the wily attorney. “I trust, gentlemen,” he added, “you will acquit me of any complicity in this affair. I am merely hired by Mrs. Ritchie to prosecute the case of Toby Clark and know nothing of her past history or criminal acts.”
“Oh, you turn against me, do you?” she inquired angrily.