“He — I can’t—”
“Spill it!” Skinner barked.
Prescott squeezed it out. “He left her nothing. She wasn’t mentioned.”
“I see. And to his wife?”
“The residue. There was — a million to each of his sisters. Bequests to servants and employees, and his niece and nephew — they weren’t changed. A million to the science fund of Varney College. The residue would have been something over two million.”
“Good — Archie, make a note of that and take the rest — I could badger you with a string of questions, but I’d rather not. You tell me. You’re a lawyer, and you know what I want, if you’ve got it. What can you tell me?”
The purple tinge on Prescott’s face was coming and going. He was an object. But his voice was suddenly stronger: “I can tell you — when I saw Miss Karn on Thursday — she admitted that Davis had done it and she had conspired with him. She told me all—”
“You sniveling liar!”
It was Eugene Davis, suddenly on his feet. Cramer was up too, grabbing his arm. So was I, but again I wasn’t needed. Davis, making no effort at further movement, his eyes on Prescott blazing with contempt and hate, was saying it with words:
“You throw me in! You skunk! I’m sorry I beat you up! I’m sorry I touched you! You killed her! You killed her, and for old Dunwoodie’s sake, for the sake of all of them down there, I smashed your face for you and that was all I was going to do! I wanted to kill you, I admit that, but I haven’t got it in me to kill. I just smashed your face. And you fall into the trap this man sets for you, and you offer to throw me in! You cowardly treacherous fool!”