“It will go to a cousin of hers, who lives out West somewhere. I don’t know exactly where.”
“A relative of yours?”
“No; my aunt was my father’s half sister. This man is a connection of her mother, and is no relation to my father or myself.”
“You know him?”
“Only his name, Joseph Allison. I’ve never seen him, never heard from him. You see, there was no question of the fortune not being mine, as I expected to marry Mr. Kimball well within the prescribed time.”
“I see; and may we not assume an interest on the part of this young man as to the disposition of the estate, in the event of your not marrying?”
“Hullo!” exclaimed Harbison, “that opens up a new field of conjecture. May not the young man have been sufficiently interested to go to the length of removing Kimball Webb from the field of action altogether?”
“Oh, no,” Elsie said. “You see, it’s this way. Mr. Allison tried to break the will at the time of my aunt’s death, four years ago; but there wasn’t a chance of it, and so, as the lawyers told me, he gracefully gave up the matter and has never been heard from since.”
“That doesn’t prevent his still being interested,” persisted Hanley. “You see, Miss Powell, I’m an experienced detective. I’m no story-book chap, but I’m a good plain worker, and I keep my eyes open, with the result that I see a hole through a millstone, now and then. And, I think I’ve learned about all I can pick up here, just now. I shall look into the matter of Mr. Courtney and his play; also into the affairs of Mr. Joseph Allison. And let me advise you, Miss Powell, not to put your inexperienced fingers into pies that you don’t understand. A girl of your age and ignorance of these things can’t be a detective,—even an amateur one. So leave it all to those who know the ropes.”
Hanley went away, and the others remained for a time.