It was a revelation. Mr Blackford, as he sat and thought out the details, though by no means a religious man, almost considered it to be providential. No shrinking from the cruel wrong he was about to commit, no sentiment of justice or compassion interfered with his determination to avail himself of it to its fullest extent. He set to work at once. His first step was to walk across to the law-stationer and inform him that the writer who had witnessed a will on a former occasion would be required for a like service to-morrow. The testator, he explained, was the same; he was making a fresh will; he was an eccentric old gentleman, who insisted that the very persons who had attested the old will should also attest the new one; and he took the precaution of seeing the writer himself and making sure of his attendance. As he went back to the office, he warned Jobson that he, too, would be required for the same purpose.
He got down his books and set to work. He drew the new will with the greatest care and accuracy, according to the instructions which he had just received. Everything was vested in the trustees named, in trust to pay the income to the testator’s dear niece Lucy, the wife of Thomas Wedlake, for her life, for her separate use, free from the debts, control, or engagements of her present or any future husband. After her death, the fund was to be divided amongst her children as she should direct; in default of children, the whole to be paid to the Vintners’ Company of London. Nothing was neglected; all the usual and proper powers and provisos were inserted with careful attention to detail.
The previous will he had fair-copied with his own hand, instead of handing it to his clerk or law-stationer. He did the same in this case, though the document was longer and the transcription involved considerable labour. His next proceeding, in the eyes of another lawyer, would have seemed very curious, for lawyers are extremely particular about the preservation, for future reference, of the draft of any deed or other document which they prepare; but the draft of this will Mr Blackford tore to fragments, which he afterwards burned in the grate. He was taking unusual pains, in fact, to carry out the testator’s wishes, that no one beside himself and his solicitor should be aware of the contents of the will.
It was now past his usual lunch-time; and he strolled into the outer office, and sent his boy to get him a dry biscuit and a glass of brandy-and-water. Until this arrived, he stood chatting to Jobson on indifferent subjects; and then intimating to him that he was going to be extremely busy with private affairs, and must not be disturbed on any account whatever, he retired with his spare meal. He locked the door of his room behind him; he was about to enter on an important part of his operation. He took up the old will—that which was to be destroyed on the morrow—and examined it carefully as he ate and drank. It was copied on a piece of the paper known as ‘demy;’ it occupied the whole of the first page and four lines of the second. Then followed the long and cumbrous attestation clause, with Mr Franklin’s straggling and irregular signature against it. Taking a paper of the same size, shape, and quality, the solicitor made an exact and laboured copy, or rather fac-simile. It had the same number of lines, and each line contained the same words as in the original. One or two unimportant erasures and carelessly formed letters were faithfully repeated. The signature, ‘Wm. Franklin,’ was transferred by means of tracing and carbonised paper, and then gone over and touched up with the pen, until a most successful imitation was produced. Two small blots, or rather splutters, had been made by the testator in writing his name. Their positions were accurately ascertained by measurement, their outlines transferred with the tracing-paper and then filled in with ink; a final touch of which Mr Blackford was reasonably proud, as indicating real genius. The result was a duplicate, which only a very careful scrutiny could have distinguished from the original of the will which was in his own favour. This ended his labours for the present.
Next day, Mr Blackford presented himself and his two witnesses before his client with the new will for signature. The old man, who was in much the same condition, read it through for himself and expressed his approval. The usual formalities were gone through, and the witnesses dismissed.
‘Now,’ said Mr Franklin, ‘have you brought the other will?’
‘I have, as you requested me to do so,’ said the solicitor, producing it; ‘though, as I said at the time, it was not necessary.’
‘Never mind,’ said his client, taking it from his hand; ‘it’s just as well out of the way. How do I know what tricks a lawyer might be up to?’
To this speech, in Mr Franklin’s best style, the solicitor made no reply; he was conscious of being ‘up to tricks’ of a rather elaborate nature. His client read the revoked will through with the same care as he had bestowed on that which superseded it. When he came to the signature, something about it seemed to arrest his attention; he turned it to the light and inspected it closely. Mr Blackford’s heart thumped uncomfortably against his ribs.
‘Curious!’ said Mr Franklin slowly; ‘I never knew myself to miss dotting an i before.’