George Stratfield glanced quickly at the white-haired lawyer. Then he said,—
“I suppose my father has treated me badly at his death, as he did throughout his life.”
“Yes.”
“Well, let me know the worst,” the young man exclaimed, sighing; “Heaven knows, I don’t expect very much.”
“When the will is formally read you will know everything,” the other answered drily.
“A moment ago you said you were a friend of my father’s. Surely if you are you will not keep me in suspense regarding my future.”
“Suspense is entirely unnecessary,” answered the lawyer, his sphinx-like face relaxing into a cold smile.
“Why?”
“Well, unfortunately, you need not expect anything.”
“Not anything?” gasped the young man, blankly. “Then am I penniless?”