"I think not," he replied. "You are Mr. John New, are you not?"
I told him that I was, and I began to have an unpleasant sensation that he must be connected with the police in some way. However, he smiled with satisfaction at this proof that he was right, and took from his breast pocket a little bundle of papers.
"You were, I believe, a friend of the late Mr. Zabdiel Blowfield, who was brutally murdered a short time ago?" he asked, looking up at me.
"Yes," I said, in some amazement. "I knew him slightly."
"As you are doubtless aware, Mr. New, the old gentleman was very eccentric, and took very sudden likes and dislikes. He had no one in the world belonging to him, his one nephew, after a somewhat disgraceful career, having died shamefully. It seems, however, that, slight as your acquaintance with him was, he took a decided liking for you."
"He never displayed it in life," I said grimly.
"Then he has made up for any lack in that respect now," said the man. "Perhaps I should introduce myself, Mr. New. My name is Tipping—James Tipping—and I was Mr. Blowfield's solicitor for many years. I should like, Mr. New, to congratulate you; your poor old friend has left you everything he possessed in the world."
For a moment or two I gaped at him, not understanding. I tried to frame words in which to answer, tried to get some grasp of his meaning. While I stood there, staring stupidly, he smiled indulgently, and went on speaking.
"The will in which he left everything to you, and which was duly witnessed at my office, was prepared only a few days—a few hours almost—before his death. It was prepared under curious circumstances. He seemed to have an idea that he had not treated his dead nephew very well, and he wanted to make amends in some way. He told me that was the reason that he wanted to leave the money to you, a young man, with his way to make in the world."
I own I felt bitterly ashamed. I seemed to see this strange old man doing what he thought was some tardy act of justice at the very end, and doing it in such a fashion that my identity should not be revealed. True, I remembered that in sheer panic he had tried to destroy me afterwards, but he had not revoked the will.