Again Hancock shrugged his shoulders.
'It's a risk,' he whispered.
'We must take it.'
Hancock raised the sick man, using as much gentleness as was possible, and the lawyer placed before him the sheet of paper on the blotting-pad. He also insinuated a pen between the wasted fingers.
'What's this?'
'Your lordship understands what you are about to do? You are about to sign your will.'
'Everything to Reggie?'
'Exactly. You are leaving everything to Lord Reginald; as is set forth on this sheet of paper. Your lordship will please attach your signature here.'
The sick man dug the point of his pen into the paper at the place to which Foster had guided his hand. Then he stopped. He looked up, with on his face a very singular expression; as of wistfulness. We watched; wondering what it was he desired to say. There was evidently something. When it came it was not at all what any of us had supposed.
'I want--to see--a good woman. Isn't there--a good woman--in the world?'