Nevertheless, it was
characteristic of him that he washed, changed his clothes, ate his
dinner, and even glanced over the evening newspaper before he turned to
the real business which was already deep in his brain. But at last, when
the maid had cleared away the dinner things, and he was alone in his
sitting-room, and had lighted his pipe, and mixed himself a drop of
whisky-and-water--the only indulgence in such things that he allowed
himself within the twenty-four hours--he drew John Mallathorpe's will
from his pocket, and read it carefully three times. And then he began to
think, closely and steadily.
First of all, the will was a good will. Nothing could upset it. It was
absolutely valid. It was not couched in the terms which a solicitor
would have employed, but it clearly and plainly expressed John
Mallathorpe's intentions and meanings in respect to the disposal of his
property. Nothing could be clearer. The properly appointed trustees were
to realize his estate. They were to distribute it according to his
specified instructions. It was all as plain as a pikestaff. Pratt, who
was a good lawyer, knew what the Probate Court would say to that will if
it were ever brought up before it, as he did, a quite satisfactory will.
And it was validly executed. Hundreds of people, competent to do so,
could swear to John Mallathorpe's signature; hundreds to Gaukrodger's;
thousands to Marshall's--who as cashier was always sending his signature
broadcast.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32