"A singularly quiet funeral, Mr Hampton," said Doctor Lawrence as he
rode back in the same carriage with the solicitor.
"The wish of the deceased, sir. He had a great dislike to wasting
money."
"Bit miserly, Mr Hampton."
"No, sir, no. On the whole a generous man, but if he spent money, as he
used to say to me. He liked to have something substantial in return."
"Well, I must say for him, that he was always prompt in his payments."
"Always," said the lawyer.
"But with his wealth it seems strange that we have not got a host of
needy relatives. We can talk about it, Hampton, not being relatives.
Wish I was. A slice of the poor old boy's cake would have been a nice
help to a family man like me."
"Humph, yes, I suppose so. Money's nice. Very sudden at last, doctor."
"Ye-es, and no," said the doctor. "When a man gets to eighty-five you
may say his life hangs by a cobweb. Any little excitement may bring it
to an end."
"Humph! Hah! And I've a shrewd suspicion that he had an angry
interview with Mr Harrington--the nephew."
"And heir?" said the doctor.
"My dear Lawrence," said the old lawyer, smiling, "never try to pump one
of our profession. In a very short time I shall be reading the will, so
curb your impatience."
"Of course, my dear sir, of course; only a little natural curiosity.
Between ourselves I think it will be a pity if he marries our charming
young friend, Gertrude."
"Thousand pities," said the old lawyer drily. "Sooner marry her
myself--if I could."
The carriage drew up at the outer gates as he spoke, and the ugly old
brick house, known as "The Mynns," seemed a little more cheerful now
that the blinds, which had been down for days, were raised and the sun
allowed to light up the gloomy rooms, in one of which--the dining-room--
the little party assembled after a while to hear the reading of the
will; Saul's enemy, the dog, taking up his position or the hearthrug.
The party consisted of Gertrude, who came in attended by Bruno; Mrs
Hampton, a stiff, stern old lady, who looked like a black dress with a
face on the top; Saul Harrington, and the servants. Mr Hampton was
there officially, and the doctor was retiring to see a patient in town,
when the lawyer took him by the coat.
"Don't go, Lawrence," he said; "you forget you are an executor."
"Oh, yes, of course, so I did."
"It's a long time since the will was executed, and I have some
recollection of a snuff-box left to you."
"Indeed," said the doctor, with his face lighting up as he rubbed his
hands; "then he has left me the old engine turned silver snuff-box. I
took a fancy to it years ago, and he laughed and said he would leave it
to me in his will. Now that's very pleasant of him to remember me. Eh
Miss Gertrude? Yes, I'm very glad."
The doctor drew out a holly-root box, took snuff loudly, and looking up
at the portrait of the old man, gave it a friendly nod, while the eyes
seemed to be gazing into his is they did into those of all present.
Then the last will and testament was read, and Saul Harrington listened
impatiently to the minor bequests to the under-servants, no one being
forgotten; and to the comfortable legacy left to Mrs Denton with the
wish that she would always remain housekeeper at The Mynns, so long as
her health permitted. Then came a fairly large amount for the
maintenance of "my old and faithful servant Bruno," with the addition
that if "my heir" did not feel inclined keep the dog, Mrs Denton was to
have him in charge and care for him till his death.
"Lucky dog!" said the doctor to himself; and he glanced at Gertrude, who
was holding Mrs Hampton's hand while crying gently, and, as if not to
intrude on her sorrow, he again looked up at the portrait, gave it a
friendly nod, and then chirruped softly to the dog, which came and laid
its head upon his knee, after turning its eyes apologetically to
Gertrude.
Then the doctor's attention was excited by the next clause in the will
which bequeathed "to my old friend and adviser, Phineas Hampton, five
thousand pounds clear of legacy duty."
"Another lucky dog," muttered the doctor, who then drew in his breath
with a hiss as he heard the lawyer's words:
"To my very old friend, Edward Lawrence, MD, my old silver snuff-box
which he once admired."
"Hah! I'm very glad," said the doctor, meeting Gertrude's eyes now, as
the lawyer paused to look up and repeat from the will the next words:
"And ten thousand pounds free of legacy duty."
"No!" ejaculated the doctor, half rising. Then sitting down again he
exclaimed, "Well!" took out his pocket-handkerchief, blew his nose
loudly, and then, without disguise, sat quietly wiping away the tears.
"To my nephew, Saul Harrington, one hundred pounds a year, raised as
hereinafter specified by a Government annuity."
Saul frowned and looked down at the carpet, though it was all he had
dared to expect, and he listened eagerly to the next clause which left
an annuity of one hundred per annum to the testator's dear adopted
child, Gertrude Bellwood, with the hope that she would fulfil his
wishes. In conclusion, as Saul was trying to recover from the shock of
knowing that Gertrude had spoken the truth, came the clauses dealing
with the remainder of the old man's wealth, which was left
unconditionally with certain sums and their interest, sums remitted from
the United States, "to my grandson, George Harrington, in the hope that
he will dutifully fulfil my wishes expressed to him in the last letter I
sent to America."
The other parts of the will, with its appointment of "my old friends,
Doctor Lawrence and Phineas Hampton, to be my sole executors," seemed to
consist of the ringing of bells in Saul Harrington's ears as he still
sat gazing down at the carpet when all was over.
"My congratulations, Lawrence," said the old lawyer, smiling.
"My dear Hampton, I don't know how to be sufficiently grateful. And, my
dear Miss Gertrude, I cannot take this. Ten thousand pounds, and you
only left with a hundred a year. Look here, Hampton. Now, no nonsense.
I shall only take some of this money--half. The other I insist upon
making over to Miss Gertrude here as her dowry."
"Can't be done. Shan't be done," said the old lawyer gruffly.
"Lawrence, we've known each other twenty years."
"Yes, we have."
"Then don't be a fool."
"And not at his side when he died," said the doctor, nodding his head.
"My dear Miss Gertrude, I feel as if I am robbing you."
"You don't know how glad I am, Doctor Lawrence," cried Gertrude, laying
her hands in his. "Dear uncle always liked you, and I felt sure he
would leave you something handsome in his will."
"Hah!"
It was a long, low expiration of the breath from Saul Harrington, who
was too deep in thought to hear what was going on, as, with hands down
in his pockets, he gazed down fixedly at the carpet.
"And if George Harrington dies, I succeed to everything. Yes," he said
to himself, "I should be master here. Get out! Beast!"
He said these last words aloud, for the dog was sniffing at his legs,
and all the time it seemed as if the portrait of old James Harrington
was the old man himself, gazing down sternly from the wall at his
plotting nephew.
"Yes, if he dies--if he dies--I shall be master here."