Part 55 (1/2)
”Mr. Benton knows me! It is strange I can't recall him,” said Mr.
Brief, trying to recollect.
”I think you will remember when you see him.”
”Possibly; but I have no recollection on any gentleman of that name.”
Ben and his uncle--to give him a name not strictly warranted by facts--occupied two rooms adjoining.
Ben ushered the lawyer into his own room, saying, ”Mr. Brief, you must prepare for a surprise.”
When, however, the so-called Marcus Benton entered the room, Mr. Brief sprang to his feet in great amazement.
”Can I believe my eyes?” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.
”I think you can, Mr. Brief,” said the old gentleman quietly,
”You are Matthew Baldwin.”
”Precisely.”
”And you are not dead?”
”Do I look as if I were?” asked Mr. Baldwin, smiling.
”What does it all mean?” asked Mr. Brief, bewildered.
”It means that I wished to try John Tremlett. I wished to ascertain whether he were worthy to inherit my fortune. What is your opinion?”
”My opinion,” said the lawyer, ”is that he would run through the property in five years. I am disgusted with him.”
”How does he spend his money?” inquired Mr. Baldwin.
”In every kind of extravagance and every form of dissipation. At the rate he is going on, it is a question, in my mind, whether he or the property would last longer.”
”I got that idea from my young friend here, who, by the way, knew of me only as Marcus Benton when he came first to see you.”
”Of course you will resume possession of the property, Mr.
Baldwin?”
”Such is my intention.”
”I can give it back into your hands entire, with the exception of nine hundred dollars drawn by Tremlett, and your funeral expenses.”
”My funeral expense!” exclaimed Mr. Baldwin, in surprise.
”Yes; a body was found in the St. Lawrence, which was supposed to be yours. It was buried with proper ceremony.”
The old man smiled, but there was a certain sadness in the smile.