“You have no idea when he did this—you weren’t present, I suppose?”
“No; he used to do his writing at the table where he hid the wills. He occasionally wrote a letter or a check there; but I never saw him open the table. I never knew of that inner compartment till the night he died.”
“Oh, I know that table very well; he had shown me the hidden drawer and explained how to open it. But this is most unfortunate, deplorable! I kept in touch with his doctor about his condition and feared something like this might happen. And he dreaded it himself—was afraid he might die some time without leaving just the will he had determined to make. I account for all the wills I wrote for him but the last. The last time I was here I brought a new will, which I don’t find among these. Are you sure you haven’t overlooked it?”
She was quite sure of it, but after she had described in minute detail the events of the last afternoon of Farley’s life, to confirm her statement that no one who could have acted as witness had visited Farley, she took the lawyer upstairs to examine the table for himself. They broadened the scope of the search, but without success.
“For the present I think it best for you not to read those wills,” he said, when they had returned to the parlor. “They represent Mr. Farley’s changes of feeling in regard to many things—including yourself. A little later I shall be glad to submit them to you. The important thing just now is the threat of this man Harlowe to attack your rights under the adoption. Mr. Eaton and I have already discussed that. Now that we’re pretty sure there’s no will, this may give us some trouble, but with characteristic thoroughness Mr. Eaton has prepared for just this emergency. His reasons for not telling me earlier about these things are sound enough—his fear of disturbing Mr. Farley unnecessarily. He would undoubtedly have wanted a proceeding brought to correct the adoption, but that could only have advertised the error, and Mr. Farley might have died before we finished it. Still, if I had known I should have taken care that he didn’t die intestate. But from what Mr. Eaton tells me, this man is all primed to attack any will that might have been left, on the ground of Mr. Farley’s mental incapacity—which is ludicrous, of course. There was never a saner man; and yet his eccentricities might be magnified before a jury—you never can tell. On the whole, Mr. Eaton’s silence was justified. But our next step must be carefully considered. In the mean time—”
He paced the floor, considering means of relieving her anxiety.
“Of course, while these things are pending we shall arrange for your maintenance, on the old basis, in this house. No one can pretend that Mr. Farley didn’t have every intention of providing for you generously. It’s only fair to tell you this, that even when he seemed to waver at times he never cut your legacy below a hundred thousand dollars; and I know he regretted the comparative meagerness of that—tripled the amount in the very next will he made! You need have no fears, Miss Farley,” he went on reassuringly. “But you are entitled to your own counsel; it’s only right that I should say this to you immediately; and I suggest that you ask Mr. Eaton to represent you. I hope you will confer with him at once.”
He bowed with old-fashioned formality. He was more troubled than he cared to have Nan know, and her silence disconcerted him. But her face expressed neither disappointment nor alarm. She stood erect by the table, an intent look in her eyes. Not wishing to leave her weighed down by the uncertainties of her future, he said briskly:—
“You mustn’t bother yourself about these matters, Miss Farley. In the end you will find yourself a rich woman. So—”
He waved his hand as the preliminary to a quick exit, but she called him back. He did not like being called back; now, he thought, there would be the tears he dreaded.