Part 9 (2/2)

”Do I understand that you are using threatening language to me?” asked Mr. Tertius, mildly.

Barthorpe sneered, and turned to Selwood.

”We'll open this safe now,” he said. ”You know which is the key, I suppose,” he went on, glaring at Peggie, who had retreated to the hearthrug and was evidently considerably put out by her cousin's behaviour. ”I suppose you never heard my uncle mention a will? We've searched his private safe at the office and there's nothing there.

Personally, I don't believe he ever made a will--I never heard of it.

And I think he'd have told me if--”

Mr. Tertius broke in upon Barthorpe's opinions with a dry cough.

”It may save some unnecessary trouble if I speak at this juncture,” he said. ”There is a will.”

Barthorpe's ruddy cheeks paled in spite of his determined effort to appear unconcerned. He twisted round on Mr. Tertius with a startled eye and twitching lips.

”You--you say there is a will!” he exclaimed. ”You say--what do you know about it?”

”When it was made, where it was made, where it now is,” answered Mr.

Tertius.

”Where it now is!” repeated Barthorpe. ”Where it now--is! And where is it, I should like to know?”

Mr. Tertius, who had gone up to Peggie, laid his hand rea.s.suringly on her arm.

”Don't be afraid, my dear,” he whispered. ”Perhaps,” he continued, glancing at Barthorpe, ”I had better tell you when and where it was made. About six months ago--in this room. One day Mr. Herapath called me in here. He had his then secretary, Mr. Burchill, with him. He took a doc.u.ment out of a drawer, told us that it was his will, signed it in our joint presence, and we witnessed his signature in each other's presence.

He then placed the will in an envelope, which he sealed. I do not know the terms of the will--but I know where the will is.”

Barthorpe's voice sounded strangely husky as he got out one word:

”Where?”

Mr. Tertius took Peggie by the elbow and led her across the room to a recess in which stood an ancient oak bureau.

”This old desk,” he said, ”belonged, so he always told me, to Jacob's great-grandfather. There is a secret drawer in it. Here it is--concealed behind another drawer. You put this drawer out--so--and here is the secret one. And here--where I saw Jacob Herapath put it--is the will.”

Barthorpe, who had followed these proceedings with almost irrepressible eagerness, thrust forward a shaking hand. But Mr. Tertius quietly handed the sealed envelope to Peggie.

”This envelope,” he remarked, ”is addressed to Miss Wynne.”

Barthorpe made an effort and controlled himself.

”Open it!” he said hoa.r.s.ely. ”Open it!”

Peggie fumbled with the seal of the envelope and then, with a sudden impulse, pa.s.sed it to Selwood.

”Mr. Selwood!” she exclaimed imploringly. ”You--I can't. You open it, and--”

”And let him read it,” added Mr. Tertius.

Selwood, whose nerves had been strung to a high pitch of excitement by this scene, hastily slit open the envelope, and drew out a folded sheet of foolscap paper. He saw at a glance that there was very little to read. His voice trembled slightly as he began a recital of the contents.

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