Chapter XXIV

THE SIGNING OF THE WILL.

‘I have more right to be here, sir, than a stranger.’ These were the words, uttered by James Semple in a voice of suppressed indignation, which Alec Lindsay heard as he entered his uncle’s bedroom next day. He had come to superintend the execution of Mr. Lindsay’s will, bringing the document with him ready for signature.

The old man was sitting up in bed, a table with writing materials beside him. Near the fireplace stood Dr. Mackenzie, a look of firm resolve on his face. At the foot of the bed stood Semple, who seemed to be bitterly protesting against being excluded from the room.

‘Just consider, uncle!’ he continued; ‘I have served you for the last ten years, and served you faithfully. What have I done, to be treated like a stranger now? Alec is to make your will; I don’t complain of that. Don’t think for a moment I am jealous of him. But why am I to be thrust out, while one who is no member of the family is admitted?’

The old man glanced helplessly at Dr. Mackenzie as if asking for advice. But the minister held his peace.

‘I think you might let my cousin stay, uncle,’ said Alec. ‘It is perhaps only fair that he should know your intentions.’

‘Ay; so let it be,’ said Mr. Lindsay, in a feeble tone. ‘The whole world will know soon enough. But don’t blame me, lads, after I am gone, I did it for the best. God knows, I did it for the best.’

And Semple, having received permission to stay in the room, walked over to the window.

‘We must get two witnesses,’ said Alec, drawing the will from its envelope. ‘Marks and the cook will do.’

‘The will had better be read first,’ put in Dr. Mackenzie. ‘There’s no need for the servants knowing its contents.’

‘True,’ said Mr. Lindsay; and Alec, standing at the old man’s bedside, began to read in a clear firm tone.

He had nearly finished his task, when he noticed that Semple (who was still standing by the window) was pulling down the blind.

‘Don’t do that, James; I have hardly light enough as it is,’ said Alec.

‘I thought the light was in my uncle’s eyes,’ answered Semple, without pulling the blind up again.

‘It was very well as it was; pull up the blind,’ said the old man fretfully.

Semple did as he was told, and Alec went on reading.

A moment afterwards a hansom drove up to the door, and there was a loud ring at the door-bell. James Semple slowly moved away from the window, and left the room.

‘You can ring for Marks and Mrs. Jackson now, Alec,’ said Mr. Lindsay.

He did so; but Marks, who answered the bell, told Alec that Mr. Beattie had called to see him on very important business.

‘I wonder what it can be,’ said Alec to himself. ‘I will be back in a minute or two, uncle,’ he said, as he laid the will which he had just read on the table by his uncle’s bed, and ran downstairs.

‘Lindsay,’ began Mr. Beattie, as soon as Alec made his appearance, ‘you saw Marchand, I think, one day about a month ago, about the Walters’ case?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you remember what passed between you?’

‘Nothing very important. I told you of it at the time;’ and Alec detailed the conversation which had taken place.

‘Very good,’ said Beattie. ‘Now I want you to make an affidavit of what passed, to be used at the motion which comes on for hearing to-day.’

‘But you can’t use an affidavit filed to-day.’

‘We can try; and I think we shall manage it. Sit down, like a good fellow, and jot down what you remember of the conversation. I’ve brought draft-paper with me.’

‘All right; but wait until I’ve seen my uncle sign his will, and then I’ll go down to the Law Courts with you.’

‘You needn’t come just yet, for I have to get a copy made, of course. If you will only sit down and put the heads of it in writing, it won’t take you ten minutes; and then, while you are getting the will signed, I will drive down to the Law Courts, and get it copied and ready for you to sign when you arrive there. The fact is,’ added Beattie, ‘I ought to have asked you to do this yesterday, but I was so busy with other matters that it escaped me.’

‘Very well; I’ll just go and tell my uncle that I am detained for a few minutes.’

‘It isn’t necessary,’ answered Beattie with some anxiety in his tone. ‘The thing would be done almost before you could get upstairs. I do wish you would do it at once; for that motion may come on at any time after twelve, and if it is lost for want of this affidavit, it will be my fault.’

Beattie’s request was not unreasonable, so, sending a message to Mr. Lindsay to explain the delay, Alec began hastily to jot down the substance of the affidavit he was about to make, while Beattie paced quietly but restlessly about the room.

As soon as Alec had joined his fellow-clerk in the library, James Semple went to the drawing-room, which at that hour of the day was always empty. On this occasion, however, Laura Mowbray was there, waiting for him.

‘Now’s the time, Laura,’ he cried, in an excited tone, though he spoke under his breath. ‘Alec is safe in the library, and the will is lying on the bed, probably; or at any rate it is somewhere in the bedroom. You have only to whisper to uncle that the solicitor’s managing clerk, Mr. Beattie, wants to look over the will to see that it is all right, and he will let you take it at once.’

‘But, James, I don’t like doing it. Can’t you think of any other way of getting a sight of it?’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you go yourself, and tell my uncle this?’

‘Of course he would suspect that I wished to read it.’

‘And is it really necessary that you should see it?’

‘Didn’t I tell you this morning, Laura, that unless I can get a sight of it, I shall never see a penny of that two hundred thousand pounds?’

‘Why?’

‘Because if the will is not in my favour, I will press my uncle to revoke it, after that minister has gone. But unless you want to ruin me, you will go now. Soon Alec will be back from the library, and then it will be too late.’

Still Laura was not satisfied.

‘Couldn’t you manage to be in the room when the will is read over to your uncle, before he signs it?’

‘No, no; that has been done already. That is—it won’t be done. Now do go, Laura, unless you mean to make us poor all our lives.’

A smile that was half-contemptuous passed over Laura Mowbray’s pretty face, as she glided away from the drawing-room. She certainly did not intend to be poor all her life in the company of Mr. James Semple.

In less than a minute she had reached Mr. Lindsay’s room. Dr. Mackenzie was still there, standing with his back to the room, looking out of the window. Laura glided up to the bed and spoke some words in a tone so low that the old man could not catch them. He knew, however, that the visitor downstairs was Messrs. Hatchett’s managing clerk, so that when Laura lifted the unsigned will lying beside him, he merely said, ‘Do they want to see it?’ at which Laura nodded, and took it away. The minister saw that she had come and gone, but he ascribed no importance to what passed. He did not notice, indeed, that the will had been removed.

Laura carried it to the drawing-room, where Semple was impatiently waiting for her. Almost snatching the paper from her hand, he said in a whisper, ‘Stand just outside the door and listen, in case the library door should open,’ and took the will to one of the windows at the farther end of the room, to read it. Laura obeyed so far as to stand in the doorway, from which position she could hear anyone opening the door of the library, on the floor below.

Semple’s scrutiny of the will did not last long. Very soon he returned to Laura, with satisfaction in his face and bearing.

‘All right,’ he exclaimed. ‘Now, all you have to do is to put it back again. Here,’ he added, picking up an open newspaper which looked as if it had been brought there on purpose, ‘slip the will under this, and lay them both on the table. When Alec comes back he will remember that he left the will on the table; he will lift the newspaper and find it there; and uncle will never notice, if you attract his attention, that Alec did not bring it back into the room himself.’

Laura admired and rather wondered at these elaborate instructions for carrying out what she thought was a very simple ruse. But she had no opportunity of putting them in practice. As she ascended the last flight of stairs, Alec came bounding up, three steps at a time, and overtook her as she reached the landing.

‘Why, Laura, what have you got there?’ he asked in surprise, taking the will from her unresisting hand.

The two stood looking at each other for a moment, without speaking.

‘What were you doing with this?’ asked Alec.

Laura had made up her mind. She would not confess to Alec that she had been acting under Semple’s directions. It would have been equivalent to making that definite choice between the two which she had resolved not to make until it was known what share of his uncle’s property Alec was to have.

‘Oh! don’t tell my uncle,’ she said rapidly, speaking almost in a whisper. ‘I wanted to know what was in it.’

‘You wanted to know whether my uncle was going to leave you anything?’

‘Yes; and I pretended to him that you and the other clerk from your office wanted to see it. But I have not looked at it. I have not read a line of it! Indeed I have not!’ and Laura burst into tears.

Alec did not speak. It did not seem a very serious matter, but he was pained to think that the girl he loved should have done such a thing.

‘Only promise me that you won’t speak of it!’ she cried, with clasped hands, her eyes swimming in tears.

Alec reflected for a moment. He could not see that there was any duty cast upon him to mention Laura’s indiscretion to his uncle. Even if she had peeped into the will, no harm could have been done. He gave the required promise, and turned away, going into his uncle’s room, while Laura, unwilling to go downstairs and meet Semple, whom at this moment she positively hated, ran up to her own room.

‘What a fool I was to listen to him!’ she exclaimed aloud, when she had shut the door. ‘But, after all, it doesn’t very much matter,’ she said to herself, a moment afterwards. ‘Alec thinks it was only my own curiosity that made me meddle with the will; and he won’t tell upon me, that’s certain. I wonder whether Mr. Lindsay has left me anything! I suppose James never looked; he was only anxious to find out what he was to have for himself. And Alec never would tell me. I wonder what Alec himself will get. I shouldn’t wonder if he gets as much us James. Oh! I wish he had not caught me just now!’

And, renewing her resolution to wait until the will was read before she committed herself irretrievably to either of the two young men, Laura proceeded to wash away the traces of tears from her face.

Meanwhile Beattie had left the house, and Alec had summoned Marks and Mrs. Jackson, the cook, to their master’s room.

The will was duly signed and witnessed, Dr. Mackenzie looking on with a grave face; and when all the formalities had been gone through, Mr. Lindsay put the document in its envelope, sealed it carefully with his own hand, and gave it to Alec.

‘Give it to Mr. Hatchett, my lad,’ he said. ‘He should have been here to-day himsel’—but it doesn’t matter. Tell him to lock it up in his safe till—till it’s wanted. And now I think I’ll try and get a little sleep, for I feel tired.’

Alec took the will to Mr. Hatchett, and saw it put away in his safe, before going down to the law courts.

As for Dr. Mackenzie, after a final interview with Mr. Lindsay he took his leave, and returned to Glasgow by the night mail.