“My husband spoke very highly of you,” June stated, as if that settled everything, including the weather.
“Thank you.” Wolfe sent a glance around at them, from one to the other, including the two men. “What am I supposed to do, obliterate Mrs. Hawthorne?”
“No.” June spoke with finality. “You can’t do anything with her. You’ll have to attack it from the other end. The woman, Naomi Karn. Get her to give up most of it — at least half of it. If you do that, we’ll do the rest. For some unknown reason Daisy really wants the money, though the Lord knows what she thinks she’s going to do with it. You may find it difficult, but surely not impossible. You can tell Miss Karn that if she doesn’t relinquish at least half of it she’ll have a fight on her hands, and she may lose considerably more than half.”
“Anyone can tell her that, madam.” Wolfe turned to the lawyer. “How does it stand legally? Would Mrs. Hawthorne have a case?”
“Well.” Prescott screwed up his lips. “She would have a case, of course. To begin with, under the common law—”
“No, please. Don’t brief it. In a word, could Mrs. Hawthorne break the will?”
“I don’t know. I think she might. In view of the way the will is worded, the law leaves it open to the facts.” Prescott was looking uncomfortable again. “You might appreciate that I am in an anomalous position. Dangerously close to an unethical position. I myself drew the will for Mr. Hawthorne, having been instructed by him to make it as contest-proof as possible. I cannot be expected to suggest ways and means of attack on my own document; rather it is my duty to defend it. On the other hand, as a friend of all the members of the Hawthorne family — not as an attorney — and I may say, also of Mr. Dunn, who holds a position of national eminence — I realize the incalculable harm that would result from a public trial of the issue. It is extremely desirable to avoid it if possible, and in view of the attitude Mrs. Hawthorne had unfortunately adopted—”
Prescott stopped, and screwed up his lips again. He went on, “I’ll tell you. Frankly and confidentially — and it is highly unethical for me to say this — I regard that will as an outrage. I told Noel Hawthorne so at the time it was drawn, but when he insisted, all I could do was obey his instructions. Entirely aside from its unfairness to Mrs. Hawthorne, I was aware that he had told his sister he would leave a million dollars to the Varney College Science Fund, and that he was making it only ten per cent of that amount. That was worse than unfair, it came close to improbity, and I told him so. Without effect. My opinion was, and still is, that under the influence of Miss Karn he had lost his balance.”
“I still don’t believe it.” It was May again, and she was continuing to do without sweetness. “I still believe that if Noel had decided not to do what he had said he would do, he would have told me so.”
“My dear Miss Hawthorne.” Prescott turned to her with his lips compressed in exasperation. “Last evening I was willing to overlook your remarks because I knew you were under the stress of a great and unexpected disappointment.” There was a tremble of indignation in his voice. “But that you should dare to insinuate, here in the presence of others, that the terms of Noel’s will are not in accordance with his precise instructions — my God, the man could read, couldn’t he—”