When Alan finished, he looked up startled and white-faced at the older man. "All of this is mine?"
"You're a pretty rich young man," Gainer agreed. "Of course, there are formalities—the will has to be probated and contested, and you can expect it to be contested by somebody. If you still have the full estate when the courts get through with you, you'll be all right."
Alan shook his head uncomprehendingly. "The way he wrote this—it's as if he knew."
"Max Hawkes always knew," Gainer said gently. "He was the best hunch-man I've ever seen. It was almost as if he could look a couple of days into the future all the time. Sure, he knew. And he also knew it was safe to leave this document with me—that he could trust me not to open it. Imagine, announcing a week ahead of time that you're going to rob a bank and then turning the announcement over sealed to a police officer!"
Alan started. The police had known about the robbery in advance—that was how Max and the dreamduster Byng had been killed. Had Gainer been the one who had betrayed them? Had he opened the sealed envelope ahead of time, and sent Max to his death?
No. It was inconceivable that this soft-spoken man would have done such a thing. Alan banished the thought.
"Max knew he was going to be killed," he said. "And yet he went ahead with it. Why?"
"Maybe he wanted to die," Gainer suggested. "Maybe he was bored with life, bored with always winning, bored with things as they were. The man was never born who could figure out Max Hawkes, anyway. You must have found that out yourself."
Gainer rose. "I'll have to be moving along, now. But let me give you some suggestions, first."
"Sir?"