"She was a good Christian woman, Haversham," said Sir Hildebrand later
in the day. "I did not deserve her. But I think I may feel that I did
my best all my life to ensure her happiness."
"No doubt, of course," replied Haversham, the county lawyer.
"Er--don't you think we might get this formal business over? I've
brought Lady Oates's will in my pocket."
He drew out a sealed envelope. Sir Hildebrand held out his hand. The
lawyer shook his head. "I'm executor--it's written on the outside--I
must open it."
"You executor? That's rather strange," said Sir Hildebrand.
Haversham opened the envelope, adjusted his glasses, and glanced
through the document. Then he took off his glasses and his brows
wrinkled, and with a queer look, half scared, half malicious, in his
eyes, gazed at Sir Hildebrand.
"I must tell you, my dear Oates," said he, after a moment or so, "that
I had nothing to do with the making of this. Nothing whatsoever. Lady
Oates called at my office about two years ago and placed the sealed
envelope in my charge. I had no idea of the contents till this minute."
"Let me see," said Sir Hildebrand; and again he stretched out his hand.
Haversham, holding the paper, hesitated for a few seconds. "I'm afraid
I must read it to you, there being no third party present."
"Third party? What do you mean?"
"A witness. A formal precaution." The lawyer again put on his
glasses. "The introductory matter is the ordinary phraseology of the
printed form one buys at stationers' shops--naming me executor." Then
he read aloud:
"I will and bequeath to my husband, Sir Hildebrand Oates, Knight, the
sum of fifteen shillings to buy himself a scourge to do penance for the
arrogance, uncharitableness and cruelty with which he has treated
myself and my beloved children for the last thirty years. I bequeath
to my son Godfrey the house and estate of Eresby Manor and all the
furniture, plate, jewels, livestock and everything of mine comprised
therein. The residue of my possessions I bequeath to my son Godfrey
and my daughter Sybil, in equal shares. I leave it to my children to
act generously by my old servants, and my horses and dogs."
Sir Hildebrand's florid face grew purple. He looked fishy-eyed and
open-mouthed at the lawyer, and gurgled horribly in his throat.
Haversham hastily rang a bell. The butler appeared. Between them they
carried Sir Hildebrand up to bed and sent for the doctor.