“Mr. Frost! Please! Miss McNair is my client-”
But Dudley Frost was under way. “Nonsense! That's tommyrot. I've thought all along my son ought to pay you; I didn't know I'd be able to. Helen…that is…damn it, I say Helen! She won't have anything, unless she'll take part of ours-”
“Mr. Frost, I insist! Mr. McNair left private instructions with his sister regarding his estate. Doubtless-”
“McNair, that booby? Why should she take money from him? Because you say he was her father? Maybe. I have my doubts on these would-be discoveries about parentage. Maybe. Anyhow, that won't be anything like a million. She may have a million, in case she marries my son, and I hope she will because I'm damned fond of her. But they might as well keep all of theirs, because they'll need it, whereas I won't need mine, since there isn't much chance that I'll be able to hang onto it very long whether I pay you or not. Not that ten thousand dollars is a very big slice out of a million-unless it's more than ten thousand on account of the new developments since I had my last talk with you about it.
Anyway, I don't want to hear any more talk about Helen being your client-it's nonsense and I won't listen to it. You can send me your bill and if it isn't preposterous I'll see that it's paid. – No, I tell you there's no use talking!
The fact is, you ought to regard it as I do, a damned lucky thing that I got the notion of turning the management of the estate over to Cabot-”
I shut the notebook and tossed it on my desk, and leaned my head on my hand and shut my eyes and tried to relax. As I said before, that case was just one damned client after another.
THE END
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