Part 102 (2/2)

Sir Lionel, when he heard this, made a short calculation in his mind whether it would now be worth his while to marry Miss Baker; and he decided that it would not be worth his while.

Fourthly, he gave to his executors above-named a sum of four thousand pounds, to be invested by them in the Three per Cent. Consols, for the sole use and benefit of his granddaughter, Caroline Harcourt. And the will went on to say, that he did this, although he was aware that sufficient provision had already been made for his granddaughter, because he feared that untoward events might make it expedient that she should have some income exclusively her own.

Sir Henry, when this paragraph was read--this paragraph from which his own name was carefully excluded--dashed his fist down upon the table, so that the ink leaped up out of the inkstand that stood before the lawyer, and fell in sundry blots upon the doc.u.ment. But no one said anything. There was blotting-paper at hand, and Mr.

Stickat.i.t soon proceeded.

In its fifth proviso, the old man mentioned his nephew George. ”I wish it to be understood,” he said, ”that I love my nephew, George Bertram, and appreciate his honour, honesty, and truth.” Sir Lionel once more took heart of grace, and thought that it might still be all right. And George himself felt pleased; more pleased than he had thought it possible that he should have been at the reading of that will. ”But,” continued the will, ”I am not minded, as he is himself aware, to put my money into his hands for his own purposes.” It then went on to say, that a further sum of four thousand pounds was given to him as a token of affection.

Sir Lionel drew a long breath. After all, five thousand pounds was the whole sum total that was rescued out of the fire. What was five thousand pounds? How much could he expect to get from such a sum as that? Perhaps, after all, he had better take Miss Baker. But then her pittance was only for her life. How he did hate his departed brother at that moment!

Poor Pritchett wheezed and sighed again. ”Ah!” said he to himself.

”Half a million of money gone; clean gone! But he never would take my advice!”

But George felt now that he did not care who looked at him, who commiserated him. The will was all right. He did not at that moment wish it to be other than that the old man had made it. After all their quarrels, all their hot words and perverse thoughts towards each other, it was clear to him now that his uncle had, at any rate, appreciated him. He could hear the remainder of it quite unmoved.

There were some other legacies to various people in the City, none of them being considerable in amount. Five hundred pounds to one, one thousand pounds to another, fifty pounds to a third, and so on. And then came the body of the will--the very will indeed.

And so Mr. George Bertram willed, that after the payment of all his just debts, and of the legacies above recapitulated, his whole property should be given to his executors, and by them expended in building and endowing a college and alms-house, to be called ”The Bertram College,” for the education of the children of London fishmongers, and for the maintenance of the widows of such fishmongers as had died in want. Now Mr. Bertram had been a member of the Honourable Company of Fishmongers.

And that was the end of the will. And Mr. Stickat.i.t, having completed the reading, folded it up, and put it back into the envelope. Sir Henry, the moment the reading was over, again dashed his fist upon the table. ”As heir-at-law,” said he, ”I shall oppose that doc.u.ment.”

”I think you'll find it all correct,” said Mr. Stickat.i.t, with a little smile.

”And I think otherwise, sir,” said the late solicitor-general, in a voice that made them all start. ”Very much otherwise. That doc.u.ment is not worth the paper on which it is written. And now, I warn you two, who have been named as executors, that such is the fact.”

Sir Lionel began to consider whether it would be better for him that the will should be a will, or should not be a will. Till he had done so, he could not determine with which party he would side. If that were no will, there might be a previous one; and if so, Bertram might, according to that, be the heir. ”It is a very singular doc.u.ment,” said he; ”very singular.”

But Sir Henry wanted no allies--wanted no one in that room to side with him. Hostility to them all was his present desire; to them and to one other--that other one who had brought upon him all this misfortune; that wife of his bosom, who had betrayed his interests and shattered his hopes.

”I believe there is nothing further to detain us at the present moment,” said Mr. Stickat.i.t. ”Mr. Bertram, perhaps you can allow me to speak to you somewhere for five minutes?”

”I shall act,” said George.

”Oh, of course. That's of course,” said Stickat.i.t. ”And I also.”

”Stop one moment, gentlemen,” shouted Harcourt again. ”I hereby give you both warning that you have no power to act.”

”Perhaps, sir,” suggested Stickat.i.t, ”your lawyer will take any steps he may think necessary?”

”My lawyer, sir, will do as I bid him, and will require no suggestion from you. And now I have another matter to treat of. Mr. Bertram, where is Lady Harcourt?”

Bertram did not answer at once, but stood with his back still against the chimney-piece, thinking what answer he would give.

”Where, I say, is Lady Harcourt? Let us have no juggling, if you please. You will find that I am in earnest.”

”I am not Lady Harcourt's keeper,” said George, in a very low tone of voice.

”No, by G----! Nor shall you be. Where is she? If you do not answer my question, I shall have recourse to the police at once.”

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