“Heigho!” exclaimed Thorndyke. “What an unfortunate affair!”
“You are right,” said Mr. Marchmont; “it was a disaster. By the original will this great sum would have accrued to our friend Mr. Stephen, whereas now, of course, it goes to the residuary legatee, Mr. John Blackmore. And what makes it even more exasperating is the fact that this is obviously not in accordance with the wishes and intentions of Mr. Jeffrey, who clearly desired his nephew to inherit his property.”
“Yes,” said Thorndyke; “I think you are justified in assuming that. But do you know whether Mr. Jeffrey was aware of his sister’s intentions?”
“We think not. Her will was executed as recently as the third of September last, and it seems that there had been no communication between her and Mr. Jeffrey since that date. Besides, if you consider Mr. Jeffrey’s actions, you will see that they suggest no knowledge or expectation of this very important bequest. A man does not make elaborate dispositions in regard to three thousand pounds and then leave a sum of thirty thousand to be disposed of casually as the residue of the estate.”
“No,” Thorndyke agreed. “And, as you have said, the manifest intention of the testator was to leave the bulk of his property to Mr. Stephen. So we may take it as virtually certain that Mr. Jeffrey had no knowledge of the fact that he was a beneficiary under his sister’s will.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Marchmont, “I think we may take that as nearly certain.”
“With reference to the second will,” said Thorndyke, “I suppose there is no need to ask whether the document itself has been examined; I mean as to its being a genuine document and perfectly regular?”
Mr. Marchmont shook his head sadly.
“No,” he said, “I am sorry to say that there can be no possible doubt as to the authenticity and regularity of the document. The circumstances under which it was executed establish its genuineness beyond any question.”
“What were those circumstances?” Thorndyke asked.
“They were these: On the morning of the twelfth of November last, Mr. Jeffrey came to the porter’s lodge with a document in his hand. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is my will. I want you to witness my signature. Would you mind doing so, and can you find another respectable person to act as the second witness?’ Now it happened that a nephew of the porter’s, a painter by trade, was at work in the Inn. The porter went out and fetched him into the lodge and the two men agreed to witness the signature. ‘You had better read the will,’ said Mr. Jeffrey. ‘It is not actually necessary, but it is an additional safeguard and there is nothing of a private nature in the document.’ The two men accordingly read the document, and, when Mr. Jeffrey had signed it in their presence, they affixed their signatures; and I may add that the painter left the recognizable impressions of three greasy fingers.”
“And these witnesses have been examined?”
“Yes. They have both sworn to the document and to their own signatures, and the painter recognized his fingermarks.”
“That,” said Thorndyke, “seems to dispose pretty effectually of any question as to the genuineness of the will; and if, as I gather, Mr. Jeffrey came to the lodge alone, the question of undue influence is disposed of too.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Marchmont. “I think we must pass the will as absolutely flawless.”
“It strikes me as rather odd,” said Thorndyke, “that Jeffrey should have known so little about his sister’s intentions. Can you explain it, Mr. Blackmore?”
“I don’t think that it is very remarkable,” Stephen replied. “I knew very little of my aunt’s affairs and I don’t think my uncle Jeffrey knew much more, for he was under the impression that she had only a life interest in her husband’s property. And he may have been right. It is not clear what money this was that she left to my uncle. She was a very taciturn woman and made few confidences to anyone.”
“So that it is possible,” said Thorndyke, “that she, herself, may have acquired this money recently by some bequest?”
“It is quite possible,” Stephen answered.
“She died, I understand,” said Thorndyke, glancing at the notes that he had jotted down, “two days before Mr. Jeffrey. What date would that be?”
“Jeffrey died on the fourteenth of March,” said Marchmont.
“So that Mrs. Wilson died on the twelfth of March?”
“That is so,” Marchmont replied; and Thorndyke then asked:
“Did she die suddenly?”
“No,” replied Stephen; “she died of cancer. I understand that it was cancer of the stomach.”
“Do you happen to know,” Thorndyke asked, “what sort of relations existed between Jeffrey and his brother John?”
“At one time,” said Stephen, “I know they were not very cordial; but the breach may have been made up later, though I don’t know that it actually was.”
“I ask the question,” said Thorndyke, “because, as I dare say you have noticed, there is, in the first will, some hint of improved relations. As it was originally drawn that will makes Mr. Stephen the sole legatee. Then, a little later, a codicil is added in favour of John, showing that Jeffrey had felt the necessity of making some recognition of his brother. This seems to point to some change in the relations, and the question arises: if such a change did actually occur, was it the beginning of a new and further improving state of feeling between the two brothers? Have you any facts bearing on that question?”
Marchmont pursed up his lips with the air of a man considering an unwelcome suggestion, and, after a few moments of reflection, answered:
“I think we must say ‘yes’ to that. There is the undeniable fact that, of all Jeffrey’s friends, John Blackmore was the only one who knew
