“He said that Anne Meredith was amply provided for by the terms of the prenuptial settlement.” Hollister laid the papers in the coroner’s hand. “I forgot to mention that if the marriage between Anne and Doctor Curtis does not take place, Anne is to be disinherited.”
Penfield ran his eyes down the two papers, then laid them in front of him.
“These are rough, unsigned drafts,” he stated, turning to the jury, then addressed the lawyer. “Does the original will stand?”
“Yes, until the codicil and the prenuptial agreement are found,” replied Hollister.
“Then Miss Anne Meredith inherits a million dollars by the terms of her uncle’s will,” Penfield spoke with added gravity. “And her cousin, Miss Lucille Hull, does not receive that amount?”
“Just so.” Hollister drew out a handkerchief. “Anne Meredith will inherit a handsome fortune whether the will stands or the codicil and prenuptial agreement go into effect or not.”
“But as matters stand she will inherit a million dollars without having to be married,” Penfield pointed out dryly, and his eyes sought Curtis.
The latter had gradually pushed his chair backward so that he was sheltered from the general gaze by a corner of the fireplace. There was a second’s pause before Penfield resumed his examination.
“Did you hear any noise during the night after retiring to bed?” he asked.
Hollister shook his head. “I am a heavy sleeper,” he admitted. “And last night I was very weary. I fell asleep at once and never awakened until Doctor Curtis called me on the house telephone, and told me that John Meredith was lying dead in the hall. I stopped only long enough to get my electric torch and rushed out and joined the doctor.”