“Mr. Anthony Gosford,” said my father, “for what purpose did Peyton Marshall bequeath you a large sum of money? You are no kin; nor was he in your debt.”
The Englishman sat down and put his fingers together with a judicial air.
“Sir,” he began, “I am not advised that the purpose of a bequest is relevant, when the bequest is direct and unencumbered by the testator with any indicatory words of trust or uses. This will bequeathes me a sum of money. I am not required by any provision of the law to show the reasons moving the testator. Doubtless, Mr. Peyton Marshall had reasons which he deemed excellent for this course, but they are, sir, entombed in the grave with him.”
My father looked steadily at the man, but he did not seem to consider his explanation, nor to go any further on that line.
“Is there another who would know about this will?” he said.
“This effeminate son would know,” replied Gosford, a sneer in the epithet, “but no other. Marshall wrote the testament in his own hand, without witnesses, as he had the legal right to do under the laws of Virginia. The lawyer,” he added, “Mr. Lewis, will confirm me in the legality of that.”
“It is the law,” said Lewis. “One may draw up a holograph will if he likes, in his own hand, and it is valid without a witness in this State, although the law does not so run in every commonwealth.”
“And now, sir,” continued the Englishman, turning to my father, “we will inquire into the theft of this testament.”
But my father did not appear to notice Mr. Gosford. He seemed perplexed and in some concern.
“Lewis,” he said, “what is your definition of a crime?”