AN EXTRAORDINARY DOCUMENT
It appears that the Messrs. Skaggs and Wyckholme, as their dual career
drew to a close, set about to learn what had become of their daughters.
Investigation proved that Wyckholme's daughter had married a London
artist named Ruthven. The Ruthvens in turn had one child, a daughter.
Wyckholme's wife and his daughter died when this grandchild was eight or
ten years old. By last report, the grandchild was living with her father
in London. She was a pretty young woman with scores of admirers on her
hands and a very level head on her shoulders.
Wyckholme held to his agreement with Skaggs by bequeathing his share of
the property to him, but it was definitely set forth that at the death
of his partner it was to go to Agnes Ruthven, the grandchild--with
reservations.
Skaggs found that his daughter, who married Browne the American,
likewise had died, but that she had left behind a son and heir. This
son, Robert Browne, was in school when the joint will was designed, and
he was to have Skaggs's fortune at the death of Wyckholme, in case that
worthy survived.
All this would have been very simple had it not been for the
instructions and conditions agreed upon by the two men. In order to keep
the business and the property intact and under the perpetual control of
one partnership, the granddaughter of Wyckholme was to marry the
grandson of Skaggs within the year after the death of the surviving
partner. The penalty to be imposed upon them if the conditions were not
complied with--neither to be excusable for the defection of the
other--lay in the provision that the whole industry and its accumulated
fortune, including the land (and they owned practically the entire
island), was to go to the islanders--or, in plain words, to the original
owners, their heirs, share and share alike, all of which was set forth
concisely in a separate document attached. Wyckholme named Sir John
Allencrombie as one executor and Skaggs selected Alfred Bowen, of
Boston, as the other.
As Wyckholme was the first to die, Skaggs became sole owner of the
island and its treasures, and it was he who made the final will in
accordance with the original plans.
The island of Japat with its jewels and its ancient château--of modern
construction--represented several million pounds sterling. Its owners
had accumulated a vast fortune, but, living in seclusion as they did,
were hard put for means to spend any considerable part of it.
Wyckholme's dream of erecting an exact replica of a famous old château
found response in the equally whimsical Skaggs, who constantly bemoaned
the fact that it was impossible to spend money. For five years after its
completion the two old men, with an army of Arabian retainers and Nubian
slaves, lived like Oriental potentates in the huge structure on the
highlands overlooking the sea.
Skaggs seldom went from one part of his home to another without a guide.
It was so vast and so labyrinthine that he feared he might become lost
forever. The dungeon below the château, and the moat with its bridges,
were the especial delight of these lonely, romantic old chaps. One of
the builders of this rare pile was now sleeping peacefully in the
sarcophagus beneath the chapel; the other was lying dead and
undiscovered in the very heart of his possessions. Their executors were
sourly wondering whether the two venerable testators were not even then
grinning from those far-away sepulchres in contemplation of the first
feud their unprimitive castle was to know.
The magnificent plans of the partners would have been a glorious tribute
to romance had it not been for one fatal obstacle. The trouble was that
neither young Miss Ruthven nor young Mr. Browne knew that their
grandfathers lived, much less that they owned an island in the South
Seas. Therefore it is quite natural that they could not have known they
were expected to marry each other. In complete but blissful ignorance
that the other existed, the young legatees fell in love with persons
unmentioned in the will and performed the highly commendable but
exceedingly complicating act of matrimony. This emergency, it is humane
to suspect, had not revealed itself to either of the grandfathers.
Miss Ruthven, from motives peculiar to the head and not to the heart,
set about to earn a title for herself. Three months before the death of
Mr. Skaggs she was married to Lord Deppingham, who possessed a title and
a country place that rightfully belonged to his creditors. Mr. Browne,
just out of college, hung out his shingle as a physician and surgeon,
and forthwith, with all the confidence his profession is supposed to
inspire, proceeded to marry the daughter of a brokerage banker in Boston
and at once found himself struggling with the difficulties of Back Bay
society.
A clause in the will, letter of instruction attached, demanded that the
two grandchildren should take up their residence in the château within
six months after the death of the testator, there to remain through the
compulsory days of courtship up to and including the wedding day. Four
months had already passed. It was also stipulated that the executors
should receive £10,000 each at the expiration of their year of
servitude, provided it was shown in court that they had carried out the
wishes of the testator, or, in failing, had made the most diligent
effort within human power.
"It is very explicit," murmured Mr. Hare, for the third time. "I suppose
the first step is to notify young Mr. Browne of his misfortune. His
lordship has the task of breaking the news to Lady Deppingham."
"You are assuming that I intend to act under this ridiculous will."
"Certainly. It means about $50,000 to you at the end of the year, with
nothing to do but to notify two persons of the terms in the will. If
they're not divorced and married again at the end of the year, you and
Sir John simply turn everything over to the Malays or whatever they are.
It's something like 'dust to dust,' isn't it, after all? I think it's
easy sledding for you."
Mr. Bowen was eventually won over by Mr. Hare's enthusiasm.
"Notifications" took wing and flew to different parts of the world,
while many lawyers hovered like vultures to snatch at the bones should a
war at law ensue.
Young Mr. Browne (he was hardly a doctor even in name) hastened downtown
in response to a message from the American executor, and was told of the
will which had been filed in England, the home land of the testator. To
say that this debonair, good-looking young gentleman was flabbergasted
would be putting it more than mildly. There is no word in the English
language strong enough to describe his attitude at that perilous moment.
"What shall I do--what can I do, Mr. Bowen?" he gasped, bewildered.
"Consult an attorney," advised Mr. Bowen promptly.
"I'll do it," shouted "Bobby" Browne, one time halfback on his college
eleven. "Break the will for me, Mr. Bowen, and I'll give--"
"I can't break it, Bobby. I'm its executor."
"Good Lord! Well, then, who is the best will-breaker you know, please?
Something has to be done right away."
"I'm afraid you don't grasp the situation. Now if you were not married
it would--"
"I wouldn't give up my wife for all the islands in the universe. That's
settled. You don't know how happy we are. She's the--"
"Yes, yes, I know," interrupted the wily Mr. Bowen. "Don't tell me about
it. She's a stumbling block, however, even though we are agreed that
she's a most delightful one. Your co-legatee also possesses a block,
perhaps not so delicate, but I daresay she feels the same about hers as
you do about yours. I can't advise you, my boy. Go and see Judge Garrett
over in the K---- building. They say he expects to come back from the
grave to break his own will."
Ten minutes later an excited young man rushed into an office in the
K---- building. Two minutes afterward he was laying the case before that
distinguished old counsellor, Judge Abner Garrett.
"You will have to fight it jointly," said Judge Garrett, after
extracting the wheat from the chaff of Browne's remarks. "You can't take
hers away from her and she can't get yours. We must combine against the
natives. Come back to-morrow at two."
Promptly at two Browne appeared, eager-eyed and nervous. He had left
behind him at home a miserable young woman with red eyes and choking
breath who bemoaned the cruel conviction that she stood between him and
fortune.
"But hang it all, dearest, I wouldn't marry that girl if I had the
chance. I'd marry you all over again to-day if I could," he had cried
out to her, but she wondered all afternoon if he really meant it. It
never entered her head to wonder if Lady Deppingham was old or young,
pretty or ugly, bright or dull. She had been Mrs. Browne for three
months and she could not quite understand how she had been so happy up
to this sickening hour.
Judge Garrett had a copy of the will in his hand. He looked dubious,
even dismayed.
"It's as sound as the rock of Gibraltar," he announced dolefully.
"You don't mean it!" gasped poor Bobby, mopping his fine Harvard brow,
his six feet of manhood shrinking perceptibly as he looked about for a
chair in which to collapse. "C--can't it be smashed?"
"It might be an easy matter to prove either of these old gentlemen to
have been insane, but the two of them together make it out of the
question----"
"Darned unreasonable."
"What do you mean, sir?" indignantly.
"I mean--oh, you know what I mean. The conditions and all that. Why, the
old chumps must have been trying to prove their grandchildren insane
when they made that will. Nobody but imbeciles would marry people they'd
never seen. I----"
"But the will provides for a six months' courtship, Dr. Browne, I'm
sorry to say. You might learn to love a person in less time and still
retain your mental balance, you know, especially if she were pretty and
an heiress to half your own fortune. I daresay that is what they were
thinking about."
"Thinking? They weren't thinking of anything at all. They weren't
capable. Why didn't they consider the possibility that things might turn
out just as they have?"
"Possibly they did consider it, my boy. It looks to me as if they did
not care a rap whether it went to their blood relatives or to the
islanders. I fancy of the two they loved the islanders more. At any
rate, they left a beautiful opening for the very complications which now
conspire to give the natives their own, after all. There may be some
sort of method in their badness. More than likely they concluded to let
luck decide the matter."
"Well, I guess it has, all right."
"Don't lose heart. It's worth fighting for even if you lose. I'd hate to
see those islanders get all of it, even if you two can't marry each
other. I've thought it over pretty thoroughly and I've reached a
conclusion. It's necessary for both of you to be on the ground according
to schedule. You must go to the island, wife or no wife, and there's not
much time to be lost. Lady Deppingham won't let the grass grow under her
feet if I know anything about the needs of English nobility, and I'll
bet my hat she's packing her trunks now for a long stay in Japat. You
have farther to go than she, but you _must_ get over there inside of
sixty days. I daresay your practice can take care of itself,"
ironically. Browne nodded cheerfully. "You can't tell what may happen in
the next six months."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's possible that you may become a widower and she a wid--"
"Good heaven, Judge Garrett! Impossible!" gasped Bobby Browne, clutching
the arms of his chair.
"Nothing is impossible, my boy--"
"Well, if that's what you're counting on you can count me out, I won't
speculate on my wife's death."
"But, man, suppose that it _did_ happen!" roared the judge irascibly.
"You should be prepared for the best--I mean the worst. Don't look like
a sick dog. We've got to watch every corner, that's all, and be
Johnny-on-the-spot when the time comes. You go to the island at once.
Take your wife along if you like. You'll find her ladyship there, and
she'll need a woman to tell her troubles to. I'll have the papers ready
for you to sign in three days, and I don't think we'll have any trouble
getting the British heirs to join in the suit to overthrow the will. The
only point is this: the islanders must not have the advantage that your
absence from Japat will give to them. Now, I'll----"
"But, good Lord, Judge Garrett, I can't go to that confounded island,"
wailed Browne. "Take my wife over among those heathenish----"
"Do you expect me to handle this case for you, sir?"
"Sure."
"Then let me handle it. Don't interfere. When you start in to get
somebody else's money you have to do a good many things you don't like,
no matter whether you are a lawyer or a client."
"But I don't like the suggestion that my wife will be obliged to die in
order----"
"Please leave all the details to me, Mr. Browne. It may not be necessary
for her to die. There are other alternatives in law. Give the lawyers a
chance. We'll see what we can do. Besides, it would be unreasonable to
expect his lordship to die also. All you have to do is to plant yourself
on that island and stay there until we tell you to get off."
"Or the islanders push me off," lugubriously.
"Now, listen intently and I'll tell you just what you are to do."
Young Mr. Browne went away at dusk, half reeling under the
responsibility of existence, and eventually reached the side of the
anxious young woman uptown. He bared the facts and awaited the wail of
dismay.
"I think it will be perfectly jolly," she cried, instead, and kissed him
rapturously.
Over on the opposite side of the Atlantic the excitement in certain
circles was even more intense than that produced in Boston. Lord
Deppingham needed the money, but he was a whole day in grasping the fact
that his wife could not have it and him at the same time. The beautiful
and fashionable Lady Deppingham, once little Agnes Ruthven, came as near
to having hysteria as Englishwomen ever do, but she called in a lawyer
instead of a doctor. For three days she neglected her social duties (and
they were many), ignored her gallant admirers (and they were many), and
hurried back and forth between home and chambers so vigorously that his
lordship was seldom closer than a day behind in anything she did.
There was a great rattling of trunks, a jangling of keys, a thousand
good-byes, a cast-off season, and the Deppinghams were racing away for
the island of Japat somewhere in the far South Seas.