“Not just now.” The Admiral took the neatly assorted letters from her and without examining their contents, tossed them down on his flat-top desk. “There is a matter of importance”—he stopped and cleared his throat—“you recall typewriting a codicil to my wife’s will?”
“Perfectly,” put in Marjorie, as the Admiral paused again.
“You made a carbon copy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because your lawyer, Mr. Alvord, thought that Mrs. Lawrence, through weakness, might spoil her signature on the first sheet, and he wished to have a second copy at hand if it should be needed.”
“Do you recall what transpired after the signing of the codicil?”
“Very distinctly,” replied Marjorie, her surprise at the continued questioning showing in her manner. “After the witnesses signed the document, Mr. Alvord returned here to collect his papers. Just as he was leaving you came in and asked him to leave the signed codicil.”
“Quite right,” broke in the Admiral. “Mrs. Lawrence wished it left here, in order to read it again when she felt stronger. Before returning to my wife, I requested you to put the codicil in my safe....”
“I carried out your instructions,” declared Marjorie, her heart beating faster with a nameless dread.