Where There's a Will

by Stout Rex

“Why — yes,” Prescott mumbled.

“It was Miss Adams to whom you dictated Noel Hawthorne’s will, following instructions he gave you?”

“I don’t remember.” The mumble cleared up a little. “I suppose it was.”

“She was your private secretary at that time, and took all your confidential dictation?”

“Yes.”

A voice said gruffly, “If this is a joke it’s a bad one.” It was Eugene Davis. “Is this an official investigation? The district attorney is here. Are you on his staff, Mr. Wolfe?”

“No, sir. I’m a private detective — Are you represented by counsel, Mr. Prescott? Or do you want to be?”

“Certainly not.”

“Do you want Mr. Davis, as your counsel, interfering in our conversation?”

“No.”