His hand dropped limply back upon the bed. He lay still, though his eyes continued open. Hancock turned to Foster.
'If you want him to do anything you had better try him now.'
After a moment's more spluttering with the pen, Foster came hurrying forward, with a sheet of paper, pen, ink, and blotting-pad.
'My lord, I have ventured to embody your wishes, as you have just expressed them, on this sheet of paper. I will read you what I have written: "I give and bequeath so much of my estate, real and personal, as I have the power of devising, to my brother, Reginald Sherrington, absolutely." It is informal, but will serve. Will your lordship be pleased to attach his signature?'
'What's that?'
'You understand what I have said?'
'Reggie to have all?'
'Precisely. You will secure the due and proper execution of your wishes by signing this paper.'
'I--hate wills.'
'I implore your lordship not to do your brother the crowning injustice of dying without doing something to protect his interests. He is already suffering much on your account. Sir Gregory, will you assist his lordship to sit up?'