He smiled; the idea seemed to give him pleasure.

"Are you sure there's nothing else?" I asked. "No

substitute,-no codicil?"

"If you know of anything of the kind it's your duty

to produce it. We have exhausted the possibilities. I'll

admit that the provisions of the will are unusual; your

grandfather was a peculiar man in many respects; but

he was thoroughly sane and his faculties were all sound

to the last."

"He treated me a lot better than I deserved," I said,

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with a heartache that I had not known often in my

irresponsible life; but I could not afford to show feeling

before Arthur Pickering.

I picked up the copy of the will and examined it.

It was undoubtedly authentic; it bore the certificate of

the clerk of Wabana County, Indiana. The witnesses

were Thomas Bates and Arthur Pickering.

"Who is Bates?" I asked, pointing to the man's signature.

"One of your grandfather's discoveries. He's in

charge of the house out there, and a trustworthy fellow.

He's a fair cook, among other things. I don't know

where Mr. Glenarm got Bates, but he had every confidence

in him. The man was with him at the end."

A picture of my grandfather dying, alone with a

servant, while I, his only kinsman, wandered in strange

lands, was not one that I could contemplate with much

satisfaction. My grandfather had been an odd little

figure of a man, who always wore a long black coat and a

silk hat, and carried a curious silver-headed staff, and

said puzzling things at which everybody was afraid either

to laugh or to cry. He refused to be thanked for favors,

though he was generous and helpful and constantly

performing kind deeds. His whimsical philanthropies

were often described in the newspapers. He had once

given a considerable sum of money to a fashionable

church in Boston with the express stipulation, which

he safeguarded legally, that if the congregation ever

intrusted its spiritual welfare to a minister named

Reginald, Harold or Claude, an amount equal to his

gift, with interest, should be paid to the Massachusetts

Humane Society.

The thought of him touched me now. I was glad to

feel that his money had never been a lure to me; it did

not matter whether his estate was great or small, I

could, at least, ease my conscience by obeying the behest

of the old man whose name I bore, and whose interest in

the finer things of life and art had given him an undeniable

distinction.

"I should like to know something of Mr. Glenarm's

last days," I said abruptly.




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