"I am unable to say, sir. Lady Oswald may have told him, or she may not. He did not know it from me."
Oswald Cray said no more. He leaned against the window, half-hidden by the curtain, and plunged into thought.
"Well, I must say I am surprised," remarked Sir Philip. "Not but that Lady Oswald had a perfect right to do as she pleased with her money, and she might have signalled out a less worthy man as inheritor. How much is the amount, Mr. Wedderburn? Do you know?"
"Somewhere between six and seven thousand pounds, I believe, Sir Philip. It would have been considerably more, but that her ladyship, a few years ago, was persuaded by an evil counsellor to sell out a large sum from the funds and invest elsewhere, for the sake of better interest."
"And she lost it?"
"Every shilling," replied the lawyer, with satisfaction: for it was done without his concurrence. "She would have had double the money to leave behind her but for that."
"Ah!" Sir Philip spoke the monosyllable shortly, and dropped the point. Not so very long ago he had been seduced to invest money in some grand and very plausible scheme--one of those to be heard of daily, promising a fortune in twelve months at the most--and he had burnt his fingers. The topic, consequently, was not palatable to his ears.
"Ask him how long this will has been made, John," whispered the literary man to his brother. Of a retiring timid nature himself, he rarely spoke but when he was obliged, and he shrank from putting the question. The clergyman obeyed, and the lawyer pointed to the date of the will.
"Only in April last. Lady Oswald was fond of making wills. Some people are so. I have made her, I should think, half-a-dozen, if I have made one."
"And the bulk of the money was always left to Dr. Davenal?"