Part 17 (2/2)

'What the devil's that to do with you? One can't marry all of 'em.'

'But you can marry one of them. Have you done that?' There came no answer from the bed. 'I would point out to your lords.h.i.+p that you are in a somewhat serious condition. Should anything happen to your lords.h.i.+p----'

'I'm going to die.'

'We trust not: but should such a misfortune be in store for us, it is of still more importance that your affairs should be in order. I would remind you that what you have been doing during the last fifteen years is known only to yourself. Are you married?'

'Curse the women!'

Why, I wondered, could not the idiot answer No?

'If your lords.h.i.+p pleases. But that is not an answer to my question.

You must be well aware that the fact of your having a wife, with issue, would materially alter your brother's position.'

'Let him have it all.'

'You wish Lord Reginald to inherit your whole estate, real and personal? Does that mean you're not married?'

'Foster, did you--ever know--me answer questions--when I didn't want to. I'm not--dead yet.'

This was so like Twickenham that it set me thinking. Indeed, as the conversation between the pair proceeded I became more and more puzzled to find an answer to the question--Who is the man in the bed? Foster stuck to his guns.

'Has your lords.h.i.+p made a will?'

'I hate wills.'

'Possibly; yet they are necessary instruments. If you have not already made a will, you must make one now. Your lords.h.i.+p will tell me how you wish matters to stand. I will draw up a brief, yet sufficient form, which you can complete at once.'

'Kick him, Doug.'

This was again so like Twickenham that I had no option but to smile.

Foster surveyed me with grave disapprobation. He drew me a little apart.

'This is no laughing matter, Mr. Howarth. I believe you represent Lord Reginald's interests. I can only tell you that they will be very seriously imperilled if we are not able to show that he has been formally appointed his brother's heir. You have witnessed the Marquis's refusal to answer my question as to whether he is or is not married. What meaning does that refusal convey to your mind?'

'None whatever. It's just Twickenham--that's all; and you know it.'

'But suppose he has a wife and children.'

'He hasn't.'

'Then why doesn't he say so?'

'Because he never would impart information to any one, on any subject whatever. Have you forgotten that that was one of his many forms of crankiness?'

'Still it is not outside the bounds of possibility that he has a wife and, say, a son. If they appeared upon the scene, with no will in existence, they would have everything. Lord Reginald would have nothing at all.'

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