Part 12 (1/2)

”It's a mystery, certainly,” he said; ”but I feel absolutely satisfied that there is another will somewhere. Poor Gowan said so, unmistakably.”

”Can you recall his exact words?” I asked.

Val had an idea that Gowan had said: ”I have settled everything on Cousin Christian.” He fancied that just before the attack occurred he had added: ”You will have to see about it,” or words to that effect.

We both felt convinced that Gowan had been too good a man of business to make such a remark unless he had made his bequest legally secure.

The obvious thing to do was to cable at once to the lawyer to delay action until the new will should turn up. This we did; a letter followed, detailing circ.u.mstances.

Our next communication was from the Glasgow lawyer, who requested Val's presence there to consult about matters, as my brother was the only person to whom Gowan had spoken on the subject of a second will. I was too much interested in the mystery to let Val go alone, and he was delighted to have my company, so once more we set off for the distant city.

Dalziel, the lawyer in question, received us in his private office on the morning after our arrival. He was a small gray man, with keen black eyes that twinkled behind his gold-rimmed spectacles now and again when an ordinary man would have smiled. His statement of affairs was indeed not rea.s.suring. Every sc.r.a.p of paper left behind by Gowan had been carefully examined by one of his responsible clerks, but nothing in the shape of a will had been discovered. Had there been no previous will, Christian Logan's boy might have claimed the estate as next of kin; but that was now not possible. To bring the matter before the law courts was equally futile; the law took cognizance of a man's wishes expressed in writing, and no evidence of a verbal declaration on his part would suffice to set aside a written doc.u.ment.

”I am afraid, Father Fleming,” said the lawyer, summing up his report, ”that there is no case to go upon for the Logan family.”

”But I am convinced,” replied Val, ”that Gowan has made another will.

He sent for me to tell me so, and to ask me to help the Logans in the matter. The will must be somewhere. The question is: Where?”

”I am inclined to think that he never made a second will,” the lawyer went on to say. ”Not that I think he meant to deceive you,” he added hastily, as he noticed Val's air of protest. ”But it has often come within my experience that a man in such a weak state may persuade himself that he has already accomplished something which he has fixed his mind upon doing, while all the time nothing has been actually done.”

Val, however, could not be convinced that such was the case in the present instance, and I could not help agreeing with him.

”It would be as well if you would call at Gowan's hotel before you leave Glasgow,” said Dalziel, as our interview came to an end. ”There are some clothes, traveling-cases, rugs, and such like, which it would be absurd to send to America, and equally absurd to sell. They will be something for the Logons if you think well to take them. I can easily arrange with the legatees on the other side, who will certainly make no difficulty.”

It was a good idea, and we resolved to act upon it. The lawyer drove with us to the hotel, to introduce us to the manager, and left us when we ascended to the room occupied by the dead man, which was still being retained by the executor until the property should be removed.

The manager himself very civilly accompanied us, directing us to summon a servant, when we had examined things to our satisfaction, and to give orders about packing and removal.

I must confess that I had not altogether given up hope of discovering the lost doc.u.ment among the clothes and packing-cases. But my antic.i.p.ations were dispelled when we entered. Everything had been neatly folded and placed on the bed and the two tables; it was evident that no doc.u.ment could have been pa.s.sed unnoticed. The room, too, was quite clean and in order. Val, like myself, seemed rather depressed at the state of things. There was no receptacle where any paper could have been stowed away that had not been thoroughly ransacked by the lawyer's men, whose interest it was to discover the will. A wardrobe for hanging clothes, a chest of drawers, dressing-table, and washstand were the only articles of furniture besides bed, tables, and chairs; none of them looked like possible receptacles of a hidden paper.

Scarcely realizing what I did, I began opening one after another the drawers in the chest. Each was neatly lined with paper, but otherwise empty. As though possessed by a mania for searching, I took out each paper and carefully a.s.sured myself that nothing had slipped underneath.

Val, roused by my action, began to poke into the drawers of the dressing-table; but his search was just as fruitless. There was nothing to be done but to settle as to the packing of the clothes and take our departure.

Suddenly an idea struck me. How often does a small article get lost in a chest of drawers by slipping behind the drawers themselves. At once I acted on the suggestion. I did not watt to consider that others had probably searched as thoroughly as I could do. Out came the drawers, one after the other, and were deposited on the floor. The bottom drawer was rather tight, and would not come out easily; but I got it out with an extra expenditure of muscle. Positively, there was a small folded paper--like a letter--lying behind it; my heart sank, for it was too small for such a doc.u.ment as I was anxious to find. I picked it up listlessly and unfolded it.

”By Jove, Val! Here it is!” I cried exultantly.

He skipped across the room to read the paper over my shoulder.

”That's it, all right!” was his exclamation. ”Thank G.o.d!”

It was but a sheet of common note-paper, bearing the printed heading of the hotel. Across it was written in shaky characters the following:

”This is the last will and testament of me, Alexander Gowan, of 269 Heniker Street, Chicago, U. S. A. I revoke all former testaments, and hereby bequeath the whole of the property of which I die possessed to Rev. Valentine Fleming of Ardmuirland, Scotland, in trust for Christian McRae, widow of Donald Logan, of Ardmuirland, and her children.

”ALEXANDER JOHN GOWAN.