CHAPTER XVIII

Simmy Dodge was the first to speak. He was the first to grasp the full

meaning of this deliberately ambiguous will. His face cleared.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, without respect for the proprieties. He slapped

Braden on the back, somewhat enthusiastically. "We sha'n't have to smash

it, after all. It's the cleverest thing I've ever listened to, old man.

What a head your grandfather had on his—"

Braden leaped to his feet, his face quivering. "Of course we'll smash it,"

he stormed. "Do you suppose or imagine for an instant that I will allow

such a thing as that to stand? Do you—"

"Go slow, Brady, go slow," broke in his excited, self-appointed lawyer.

"Can't you see through it? Can't you see what he was after? Why, good

Lord, man, he has made you the principal legatee,—he has actually given

you _everything_. All this rigmarole about a trust or a foundation or

whatever you want to call it amounts to absolutely nothing. The money is

yours to do what you like with as long as you live. You have complete

control of every dollar of it. No one else has a thing to say about it.

Why, it's the slickest, soundest will I've—"

"Oh, my God!" groaned Braden, dropping into a chair and covering his face

with his hands.

Judge Hollenback was smiling benignly. He had drawn the will. He knew that

it was sound, if not "slick," as Simmy had described it. The three

Tresslyns leaned forward in their chairs, bewildered, dumbfounded. Their

gaze was fixed on the shaking figure of Braden Thorpe.

As for Wade, he had sunk helplessly into a chair. A strange, hunted look

appeared in his eyes. His chin sank lower and lower, and his body

twitched. He was not caring what happened to Braden Thorpe, he was not

even thinking about the vast fortune that had been placed at the young

man's disposal. His soul was sick. In spite of all that he could do to

prevent it, his gaze went furtively to Murray's rubicund jowl, and then

shifted to the rapt, eager face of his young mistress. Twenty-five

thousand dollars! There was no excuse for him now. With all that money he

could not hope to stay on in service. He was rich. He would have to go out

into the world and shift for himself. He could not go on 'tending furnace

for Mrs. Thorpe,—he couldn't take the bread out of some deserving

wretch's mouth by hanging onto the job with all that money in his

possession. Mrs. Thorpe would congratulate him on the morrow, and turn him

out. And no one would tell him where to go,—unless it might be Murray, in

a fit of anger.

"Mr. Thorpe was not moved by any desire to circumvent certain—perhaps I

should say that he intended you, Dr. Thorpe, to act in strict accordance

with the provisions of the will," said Judge Hollenback. "He did not lose

sight of the fact that he had promised to leave you out of his will

completely. This money is not yours. It is in your hands as trustee. Mr.

Dodge is wrong. Your grandfather was very deeply in earnest when he

authorised the drawing of this instrument. You will discover, on reading

it carefully and thoughtfully, that he does not give you the right to

divert any of this money to your own private uses, but clearly says that

it is to be employed, under your sole direction and as you see fit, for

the carrying out of your ideas along certain lines. He has left a letter

for you, Dr. Thorpe, which I have been privileged to read. You will find

it in this envelope. For the benefit of future beneficiaries under this

instrument, I may say that he expresses the hope and desire that you will

not permit the movement to languish after your death. In fact, he

expressly instructs you to establish during your life time a systematic

scheme of education by reason of which the world eventually may become

converted to the ideas which you promulgate and defend. He realised that

this cannot he brought about in one generation, nor in two, three or four.

Indeed, he ventures the opinion that two centuries may pass before this

sound and sensible theory of yours,—the words are his, not mine,—becomes a

reality. Two centuries, mind you. So, you will see, he does not expect you

to perform a miracle, Braden. You are to start the ball rolling, so to

speak, in a definite, well-supported groove, from which there can be no

deviation. By this will, you are to have free and unhampered use of a vast

sum of money. He does not bind you in any particular. So much for the

outward expression of the will. Inversely, however, as you will find by

reading this letter, you are not so completely free to exercise your own

discretion. You will find that while he gives to you the undisputed right

to bequeath this fortune as you may see fit at the expiration of your term

as trustee—in short, at your death,—he suggests that,—being an honourable

and conscientious man to his certain knowledge,—you will create a so-

called foundation for the perpetuation of your ideas—and his, I may add.

This foundation is to grow out of and to be the real development of the

trust over which you now have absolute control. But all this, my friend,

we may discuss later on. The real significance of Mr. Thorpe's will is to

be found in the faith he reposes in you. He puts you on your honour. He

entrusts this no inconsiderable fortune to your care. It rests entirely

with you as to the manner in which it shall be used. If you elect to

squander it, there is no one to say nay to you. It is expressly stated

here that the trust comprehends the spread of the doctrines you advocate,

but it does not pretend to guide or direct you in the handling of the

funds. Mr. Thorpe trusts you to be governed by the dictates of your own

honour. I have no hesitancy in saying that I protested against this

extraordinary way of creating a trust, declaring to him that I thought he

was doing wrong in placing you in such a position,—that is to say, it was

wrong of him to put temptation in your way. He was confident, however. In

fact, he was entirely satisfied with the arrangement. I will admit that at

the time I had a queer impression that he was chuckling to himself, but of

course I was wrong. It was merely the quick and difficult breathing of one

in dire pain. The situation is quite plain, ladies and gentlemen. The will

is sound. Mr. Dodge has observed,—somewhat hastily I submit,—that he

believes it will not have to be smashed. He says that the money has been

left to Dr. Thorpe, and that the trust is a rigmarole, or something of the

sort. Mr. Dodge is right, after a fashion. If Dr. Thorpe chooses to

violate his grandfather's staunch belief in his integrity, if he elects to

disregard the suggestions set down in this letter—which, you must

understand, is in no sense a legal supplement to the will,—he may justify

Mr. Dodge's contention that the fortune is his to do with as he pleases."

He turned to Anne. "I beg to inform you, Mrs. Thorpe, that your duties as

executrix will not prove onerous. Your late husband left his affairs in

such shape that there will be absolutely no difficulty in settling the

estate. It could be done in half an hour, if necessary. Everything is

ship-shape, as the saying is. I shall be glad to place myself at the

command of yourself and your attorneys. Have no hesitancy in calling upon

me."

He waited. No one spoke. Braden was looking at him now. He had recovered

from his momentary collapse and was now listening intently to the old

lawyer's words. There was a hard, uncompromising light in his eyes,—a

sullen prophecy of trouble ahead. After a moment, Judge Hollenback

construed their silence as an invitation to go on. He liked to talk.

"Our good friend Dodge says that no one else has a thing to say about the

manner in which the trustee of this vast fund shall disperse his dollars."

(Here he paused, for it sounded rather good to him.) "Ahem! Now does Mr.

Dodge really believe what he says? Just a moment, please. I am merely

formulating—er—I beg pardon, Mrs. Thorpe. You were saying—?"

"I prefer not to act as executrix of the will, Judge Hollenback," said

Anne dully. "How am I to go about being released from—"

"My dear Mrs. Thorpe, you must believe me when I say that your

duties,—er—the requirements,—are practically _nil_. Pray do not labour

under the impression that—"

"It isn't that," said Anne. "I just don't want to serve, that's all. I

shall refuse."

"My daughter will think the matter over for a few days, Judge Hollenback,"

said Mrs. Tresslyn suavely. "She _does_ feel, I've no doubt, that it would

be a tax on her strength and nerves. In a few days, I'm sure, she will

feel differently." She thought she had sensed Anne's reason for

hesitating. Mrs. Tresslyn had been speechless with dismay—or perhaps it

was indignation—up to this moment. She had had a hard fight to control her

emotions.

"We need not discuss it now, at any rate," said Anne. She found it

extremely difficult to keep from looking at Braden as she spoke. Something

told her that he was looking hard at her. She kept her face averted.

"Quite right, quite right," said Judge Hollenback. "I hope you will

forgive me, Braden, for mentioning your—er—theories,—the theories which

inspired the somewhat disturbing clause in your grandfather's will. I feel

that it is my duty to explain my position in the matter. I was opposed to

the creation of this fund. I tried to make your grandfather see the utter

fallacy of his—shall we call it whim? Now, I will not put myself in the

attitude of denying the true humanity of your theory. I daresay it has

been discussed by physicians for ages. It was my aim to convince your

grandfather that all the money in the world cannot bring about the result

you desire. I argued from the legal point of view. There are the insurance

companies to consider. They will put obstacles in the way of—"

"Pardon me, Judge Hollenback," interrupted Braden steadily. "I do not

advocate an illegal act. We need not discuss my theories, however. The

absurdity of the clause in my grandfather's will is as clear to me as it

is to you. The conditions cannot be carried out. I shall refuse to accept

this trusteeship."

Judge Hollenback stared. "But, my dear friend, you must accept. What is to

become of the—er—money if you refuse to act? You can't possibly refuse.

There is no other provision for the disposition of the estate. He has put

it squarely up to you. There is no other solution. You may be sure, sir,

that I do not care what you do with the money, and I fancy no one else

will undertake to define your—"

"Just the same, sir, I cannot and will not accept," said Braden, finality

in his tone. "I cannot tell you how shocked, how utterly overwhelmed I am

by—"

Simmy interrupted him. "I'd suggest, old fellow, that you take Mr.

Thorpe's letter to your rooms and read it. Take time to think it all out

for yourself. Don't go off half-cocked like this."

"You at least owe it to yourself and to your grandfather—" began Judge

Hollenback soothingly, but was cut short by Braden, who arose and turned

to the door. There he stopped and faced them.

"I'm sorry, Judge Hollenback, but I must ask you to consider the matter

closed. I shall leave you and Mr. Dodge to find a satisfactory solution.

In the first place, I am a practising physician and surgeon. I prefer to

regulate my own life and my life's work. I need not explain to you just

how deeply I am interested in the saving of human life. That comes first

with me. My theories, as you call them, come second. I cannot undertake

the promotion of these theories as a salaried advocate. This is the only

stupid and impractical thing that my grandfather ever did, I believe. He

must have known that the terms of the will could not be carried out. Mr.

Dodge is right. It was his way of leaving the property to me after

declaring that he would not do so, after adding the codicil annulling the

bequest intended for me. He broke a solemn compact. Now he has made the

situation absolutely impossible. I shall not act as trustee of this fund,

and I shall not use a penny of the fortune 'as I see fit,' Judge

Hollenback. There must be some other channel into which all this money can

be diverted without—"

"There is no provision, sir, as I said before," said Judge Hollenback

testily. "It can only be released by an act of yours. That is clear, quite

clear."

"Then, I shall find a way," said Braden resolutely. "I shall go into court

and ask to have the will set aside as—"

"That's it, sir, that's it," came an eager voice from an unexpected

quarter. Wade was leaning forward in his chair, visibly excited by the

prospect of relief. "I can testify, sir, that Mr. Thorpe acted

strangely,—yes, very queerly,—during the past few months. I should say

that he was of unsound mind." Then, as every eye was upon him, he subsided

as suddenly as he had begun.

"Shut up!" whispered Murray, murderously, bending over, the better to

penetrate his ear. "You damn fool!"

Judge Hollenback indulged in a frosty smile. "Mr. Wade is evidently

bewildered." Then, turning to Braden, he said: "Mr. Dodge's advice is

excellent. Think the matter over for a few days and then come to see me."

"I am placed in a most unhappy position," said Braden, with dignity. "Mrs.

Thorpe appreciates my feelings, I am sure. She was led to believe, as I

was, that my grandfather had left me out of his will. Such a thing as this

subterfuge never crossed my mind, nor hers. I wish to assure her, in the

presence of all of you, that I was as completely ignorant of all this—"

"I know it, Braden," interrupted Anne. "I know that you had nothing to do

with it. And for that reason I feel that you should accept the trust that

is—"

"Anne!" cried out Braden, incredulously. "You cannot mean it. You—"

"I do mean it," she said firmly. "It is your greatest justification. You

should carry out his wishes. He does not leave you the money outright. You

may do as you please with it, to be sure, but why should you agree with

Simmy that it may be converted solely to your own private uses? Why should

you feel that he intended you to have it all for your own? Does he not set

forth explicitly just what uses it is to be put to by you during your

lifetime? He puts you on your honour. He knew what he was about when he

overruled Judge Hollenback's objection. He knew that this trust would be

safe in your hands. Yes, Braden, he knew that you would not spend a penny

of it on yourself."

He was staring at her blankly. Mrs. Tresslyn was speaking now, but it is

doubtful if he heard a word that she uttered. He was intent only upon the

study of Anne's warm, excited face.

"Mr. Thorpe assured me a little over a year ago," began Anne's mother, a

hard light in her eyes, "that it was his determination to leave his

grandson out of his will altogether. It was his desire,—or at least, so he

said,—to remove from Braden's path every obstacle that might interfere

with his becoming a great man and a credit to his name. By that, of

course, he meant money unearned. He told me that most of his fortune was

to go to Charitable and Scientific Institutions. I had his solemn word of

honour that his grandson was to be in no sense a beneficiary under his

will. He—"

"Please, mother!" broke in Anne, a look of real shame in her eyes.

"And so how are we to reconcile this present foolishness with his very

laudable display of commonsense of a year ago?" went on Mrs. Tresslyn, the

red spot darkening in her cheek. "He played fast and loose with all of us.

I agree with Braden Thorpe. There was treachery in—"

"Ahem!" coughed Judge Hollenback so loudly and so pointedly that the angry

sentence was not completed.

Mrs. Tresslyn was furious. She had been cheated, and Anne had been

cheated. The old wretch had played a trick on all of them! He had bought

Anne for two millions, and now _nothing_,—absolutely _nothing_ was to go

to Charity! Braden was seven times a millionaire instead of a poor but

ambitious seeker after fame!

In the few minutes that followed Judge Hollenback's cough, she had time to

restore her equanimity to its habitual elevation. It had, for once,

stooped perilously near to catastrophe.

Meanwhile, her son George had arrived at a conclusion. He arose from his

chair with a wry face and a half uttered groan, and crossed over to

Braden's side. Strange, fierce pains were shooting through all the joints

and muscles of his body.

"See here, Brady, I'd like to ask a question, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind. What is it?"

"Would you have operated on Mr. Thorpe if you'd known what was in this

will?"

Braden hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes. My grandfather asked me to

operate. There was nothing else for me to do under the circumstances."

"That's just what I thought. Well, all I've got to say is that so long as

you respected his wishes while he was alive it seems pretty rotten in you

to take the stand you're taking now."

"What do you mean?"

"He virtually asked you to make an end of him. You both knew there was no

chance. You operated and he died. I'm speaking plainly, you see. No one

blames you. You did your best. But it seems to me that if you could do

what he asked you to do at that time, you ought to do what he asks of you

now. As long as you were willing to respect his last wish alive, you ought

not to stir up a rumpus over his first wish dead."

The two men were looking hard into each other's eyes. George's voice shook

a little, but not from fear or nervousness. He was shivering with the

chill that precedes fever.

Anne drew a step or two nearer. She laid an appealing hand on George's

arm.

"I think I understand you, George," said Thorpe slowly. "You are telling

me that you believe I took my grandfather's life by design. You—"

"No," said George quietly, "I'm not saying that, Brady. I'm saying that

you owe as much to him now as you did when he was alive. If you had not

consented to operate, this will would never have been drawn. If you had

refused, the first will would have been read to-day. I guess you are

entirely responsible for the making of this new will, and that's why I say

you ought to be man enough to stand by your work."

Thorpe turned away. His face was very white and his hands were clenched.

Anne shook her brother's arm. "Why,—oh, why did you say that to him,

George? Why—"

"Because it ought to have been said to him," said George coolly; "that's

why. He made old Mr. Thorpe see things from his point of view, and it's up

to him to shoulder the responsibility."

Mrs. Tresslyn spoke to Murray. "Is there any reason why we shouldn't have

tea, Murray? Serve it, please." She turned to Judge Hollenback. "I don't

see any sense in trying to settle all the little details to-day, do you,

Judge Hollenback? We've done all that it is possible to do to-day. The

will has been read. That is all we came for, I fancy. I confess that I am

astonished by several of the provisions, but the more I think of them the

less unreasonable they seem to be. We have nothing to quarrel about. Every

one appears to be satisfied except Dr. Thorpe, so let us have tea—and

peace. Sit down, Braden. You can't decide the question to-day. It has too

many angles."

Braden lifted his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Tresslyn; I shall not wait. At

what hour may I see you to-morrow, Judge Hollenback?"

"Name your own hour, Braden."

"Three o'clock," said Braden succinctly. He turned to George. "No hard

feelings, George, on my part."

"Nor on mine," said George, extending his hand. "It's just my way of

looking at things lately. No offence was meant, Brady. I'm too fond of you

for that."

"You've given me something to think about," said Thorpe. He bowed stiffly

to the ladies and Judge Hollenback. George stepped out into the hall with

him.

"I intend to stick pretty close to Anne, Brady," he said with marked

deliberation. "She needs me just now."

Thorpe started. "I don't get your meaning, George."

"There will be talk, old man,—talk about you and Anne. Do you get it now?"

"Good heaven! I—yes, I suppose there will be all sorts of conjectures,"

groaned Braden bitterly. "People remember too well, George. You may rest

easy, however. I shall not give them any cause to talk. As for coming to

this house again, I can tell you frankly that as I now feel I could almost

make a vow never to enter its doors again as long as I live."

"Well, I just thought I'd let you know how I stand in the matter," said

George. "I'm going to try to look out for Anne, if she'll let me. Good-

bye, Brady. I hope you'll count me as one of your friends, if you think

I'm worth while. I'm—I'm going to make a fresh start, you know." He

grinned, and his teeth chattered.

"You'd better go to bed," said Braden, looking at him closely. "Tell Anne

that I said so, and—you'd better let a doctor look you over, too."

"I haven't much use for doctors," said George, shaking his head. "I wanted

to kill you last winter when you cut poor little Lutie—Oh, but of course

you understand. I was kind of dotty then, I guess. So long."

Simmy came to the library door and called out: "I'll be with you in a

second, Brady. I'm going your way, and I don't care which way you're

going. My car's outside." Re-entering the room, Mr. Dodge walked up to

Anne and actually shook her as a parent would shake a child. "Don't be

silly about it, Anne. You've got to accept the house. He left it to you

without—"

"I cannot live up to the conditions. The will says that I must continue to

make this place my home, that I must reside here for—Oh! I cannot do it,

that's all, Simmy. I would go mad, living here. There is no use discussing

the matter. I will not take the house."

"'Pon my soul," sighed Judge Hollenback, "the poor man seems to have made

a mess of everything. He can't even give his property away. No one will

take it. Braden refuses, Mrs. Thorpe refuses, Wade is dissatisfied—Ah,

yes, Murray seems to be pleased. One lump, Mrs. Tresslyn, and a little

cream. Now as for Wade's attitude—by the way, where is the man?"

Wade was at the lower end of the hall, speaking earnestly in a tremulous

undertone to Braden Thorpe.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Braden, there's only one thing to do. We've got to have it

set aside, declared void. You may count on me, sir. I'll swear to his

actions. Crazy as a loon, sir,—? crazy as a loon."

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