“Very well, Sam; where is Mr. Alvord?”
“In de lib’ry, suh.”
“This way, Duncan,” and the Admiral piloted his guest to the pleasant room where Marjorie had spent so many hours. An elderly man rose on their entrance. “Sorry to have kept you, Alvord,” apologized the Admiral. “This is Mr. Duncan Fordyce. Kindly tell him in detail of the signing of the codicil to my wife’s will.”
Alvord glanced in some astonishment at his client; then followed his request, and Duncan listened with close attention as he described having Marjorie typewrite the codicil, making two copies, and the signing of the original copy by Mrs. Lawrence.
“Admiral Lawrence requested me to leave the signed codicil here, and instructed Miss Langdon to place it in the safe,” he ended. “I gave her the paper....”
“Could you take your solemn oath that you gave her the signed copy?”
“I am willing to swear that to the best of my recollection I gave her the signed codicil....”
“That’s an equivocation,” challenged Duncan promptly.
“Well, what difference does it make? Only the unsigned codicil turned up next morning. I left a codicil, signed or unsigned, on this desk—she could have stolen it a deal easier from the desk.”
“Exactly where did you place the paper?” questioned Duncan.