A SECOND
"You are both fortunate and unfortunate, Mr. Brewster," said Mr. Grant,
after the young man had dropped into a chair in the office of Grant &
Ripley the next day. Montgomery wore a slightly bored expression, and
it was evident that he took little interest in the will of James T.
Sedgwick. From far back in the recesses of memory he now recalled this
long-lost brother of his mother. As a very small child he had seen his
Uncle James upon the few occasions which brought him to the home of Mr.
and Mrs. Robert Brewster. But the young man had dined at the Drews the
night before and Barbara had had more charm for him than usual. It was
of her that he was thinking when he walked into the office of
Swearengen Jones's lawyers.
"The truth is, Mr. Grant, I'd completely forgotten the existence of an
uncle," he responded.
"It is not surprising," said Mr. Grant, genially. "Every one who knew
him in New York nineteen or twenty years ago believed him to be dead.
He left the city when you were a very small lad, going to Australia, I
think. He was off to seek his fortune, and he needed it pretty badly
when he started out. This letter from Mr. Jones comes like a message
from the dead. Were it not that we have known Mr. Jones for a long
time, handling affairs of considerable importance for him, I should
feel inclined to doubt the whole story. It seems that your uncle turned
up in Montana about fifteen years ago and there formed a stanch
friendship with old Swearengen Jones, one of the richest men in the far
West. Sedgwick's will was signed on the day of his death, September
24th, and it was quite natural that Mr. Jones should be named as his
executor. That is how we became interested in the matter, Mr. Brewster."
"I see," said Montgomery, somewhat puzzled. "But why do you say that I
am both fortunate and unfortunate?"
"The situation is so remarkable that you'll consider that a mild way of
putting it when you've heard everything. I think you were told, in our
note of yesterday, that you are the sole heir. Well, it may surprise
you to learn that James Sedgwick died possessed of an estate valued at
almost seven million dollars."
Montgomery Brewster sat like one petrified, staring blankly at the old
lawyer, who could say startling things in a level voice.
"He owned gold mines and ranches in the Northwest and there is no
question as to their value. Mr. Jones, in his letter to us, briefly
outlines the history of James Sedgwick from the time he landed in
Montana. He reached there in 1885 from Australia, and he was worth
thirty or forty thousand dollars at the time. Within five years he was
the owner of a huge ranch, and scarcely had another five years passed
before he was part owner of three rich gold mines. Possessions
accumulated rapidly; everything he touched turned to gold. He was
shrewd, careful, and thrifty, and his money was handled with all the
skill of a Wall Street financier. At the time of his death, in
Portland, he did not owe a dollar in the world. His property is
absolutely unencumbered--safe and sound as a government bond. It's
rather overwhelming, isn't it?" the lawyer concluded, taking note of
Brewster's expression.
"And he--he left everything to me?"
"With a proviso."
"Ah!"
"I have a copy of the will. Mr. Ripley and I are the only persons in
New York who at present know its contents. You, I am sure, after
hearing it, will not divulge them without the most careful
deliberation."
Mr. Grant drew the document from a pigeon-hole in his desk, adjusted
his glasses and prepared to read. Then, as though struck by a sudden
thought, he laid the paper down and turned once more to Brewster.
"It seems that Sedgwick never married. Your mother was his sister and
his only known relative of close connection. He was a man of most
peculiar temperament, but in full possession of all mental faculties.
You may find this will to be a strange document, but I think Mr. Jones,
the executor, explains any mystery that may be suggested by its terms.
While Sedgwick's whereabouts were unknown to his old friends in New
York, it seems that he was fully posted on all that was going on here.
He knew that you were the only child of your mother and therefore his
only nephew. He sets forth the dates of your mother's marriage, of your
birth, of the death of Robert Brewster and of Mrs. Brewster. He also
was aware of the fact that old Edwin Peter Brewster intended to
bequeath a large fortune to you--and thereby hangs a tale. Sedgwick was
proud. When he lived in New York, he was regarded as the kind of man
who never forgave the person who touched roughly upon his pride. You
know, of course, that your father married Miss Sedgwick in the face of
the most bitter opposition on the part of Edwin Brewster. The latter
refused to recognize her as his daughter, practically disowned his son,
and heaped the harshest kind of calumny upon the Sedgwicks. It was
commonly believed about town that Jim Sedgwick left the country three
or four years after this marriage for the sole reason that he and Edwin
Brewster could not live in the same place. So deep was his hatred of
the old man that he fled to escape killing him. It was known that upon
one occasion he visited the office of his sister's enemy for the
purpose of slaying him, but something prevented. He carried that hatred
to the grave, as you will see."
Montgomery Brewster was trying to gather himself together from within
the fog which made himself and the world unreal.
"I believe I'd like to have you read this extraor--the will, Mr.
Grant," he said, with an effort to hold his nerves in leash.
Mr. Grant cleared his throat and began in his still voice. Once he
looked up to find his listener eager, and again to find him grown
indifferent. He wondered dimly if this were a pose.
In brief, the last will of James T. Sedgwick bequeathed everything,
real and personal, of which he died possessed, to his only nephew,
Montgomery Brewster of New York, son of Robert and Louise Sedgwick
Brewster. Supplementing this all-important clause there was a set of
conditions governing the final disposition of the estate. The most
extraordinary of these conditions was the one which required the heir
to be absolutely penniless upon the twenty-sixth anniversary of his
birth, September 23d.
The instrument went into detail in respect to this supreme condition.
It set forth that Montgomery Brewster was to have no other worldly
possession than the clothes which covered him on the September day
named. He was to begin that day without a penny to his name, without a
single article of jewelry, furniture or finance that he could call his
own or could thereafter reclaim. At nine o'clock, New York time, on the
morning of September 23d, the executor, under the provisions of the
will, was to make over and transfer to Montgomery Brewster all of the
moneys, lands, bonds, and interests mentioned in the inventory which
accompanied the will. In the event that Montgomery Brewster had not, in
every particular, complied with the requirements of the will, to the
full satisfaction of the said executor, Swearengen Jones, the estate
was to be distributed among certain institutions of charity designated
in the instrument. Underlying this imperative injunction of James
Sedgwick was plainly discernible the motive that prompted it. In almost
so many words he declared that his heir should not receive the fortune
if he possessed a single penny that had come to him, in any shape or
form, from the man he hated, Edwin Peter Brewster. While Sedgwick could
not have known at the time of his death that the banker had bequeathed
one million dollars to his grandson, it was more than apparent that he
expected the young man to be enriched liberally by his enemy. It was to
preclude any possible chance of the mingling of his fortune with the
smallest portion of Edwin P. Brewster's that James Sedgwick, on his
deathbed, put his hand to this astonishing instrument.
There was also a clause in which he undertook to dictate the conduct of
Montgomery Brewster during the year leading up to his twenty-sixth
anniversary. He required that the young man should give satisfactory
evidence to the executor that he was capable of managing his affairs
shrewdly and wisely,--that he possessed the ability to add to the
fortune through his own enterprise; that he should come to his
twenty-sixth anniversary with a fair name and a record free from
anything worse than mild forms of dissipation; that his habits be
temperate; that he possess nothing at the end of the year which might
be regarded as a "visible or invisible asset"; that he make no
endowments; that he give sparingly to charity; that he neither loan nor
give away money, for fear that it might be restored to him later; that
he live on the principle which inspires a man to "get his money's
worth," be the expenditure great or small. As these conditions were
prescribed for but a single year in the life of the heir, it was
evident that Mr. Sedgwick did not intend to impose any restrictions
after the property had gone into his hands.
"How do you like it?" asked Mr. Grant, as he passed the will to
Brewster.
The latter took the paper and glanced over it with the air of one who
had heard but had not fully grasped its meaning.
"It must be a joke, Mr. Grant," he said, still groping with difficulty
through the fog.
"No, Mr. Brewster, it is absolutely genuine. Here is a telegram from
the Probate Court in Sedgwick's home county, received in response to a
query from us. It says that the will is to be filed for probate and
that Mr. Sedgwick was many times a millionaire. This statement, which
he calls an inventory, enumerates his holdings and their value, and the
footing shows $6,345,000 in round numbers. The investments, you see,
are gilt-edged. There is not a bad penny in all those millions."
"Well, it is rather staggering, isn't it?" said Montgomery, passing his
hand over his forehead. He was beginning to comprehend.
"In more ways than one. What are you going to do about it?"
"Do about it?" in surprise. "Why, it's mine, isn't it?"
"It is not yours until next September," the lawyer quietly said.
"Well, I fancy I can wait," said Brewster with a smile that cleared the
air.
"But, my dear fellow, you are already the possessor of a million. Do
you forget that you are expected to be penniless a year from now?"
"Wouldn't you exchange a million for seven millions, Mr. Grant?"
"But let me inquire how you purpose doing it?" asked Mr. Grant, mildly.
"Why, by the simple process of destruction. Don't you suppose I can get
rid of a million in a year? Great Scott, who wouldn't do it! All I have
to do is to cut a few purse strings and there is but one natural
conclusion. I don't mind being a pauper for a few hours on the 23d of
next September."
"That is your plan, then?"
"Of course. First I shall substantiate all that this will sets forth.
When I am assured that there can be no possibility of mistake in the
extent of this fortune and my undisputed claim, I'll take steps to get
rid of my grandfather's million in short order." Brewster's voice rang
true now. The zest of life was coming back.
Mr. Grant leaned forward slowly and his intent, penetrating gaze served
as a check to the young fellow's enthusiasm.
"I admire and approve the sagacity which urges you to exchange a paltry
million for a fortune, but it seems to me that you are forgetting the
conditions," he said, slowly. "Has it occurred to you that it will be
no easy task to spend a million dollars without in some way violating
the restrictions in your uncle's will, thereby losing both fortunes?"