proving the will and devolving the estate; his costs would run to the most
agreeable figures. As soon as he glanced at the testament which Mr. Cowl
had found, he muttered, with satisfaction and disdain:

"H'm! He made this himself."

And he gazed at it compassionately, as a cabinetmaker might gaze at a piece
of amateur fretwork.

Standing, he read it slowly and with extreme care. And when he had finished
he casually remarked, in the classic legal phrase:

"It isn't worth the paper it's written on."

Then he sat down again, and his neat paunch resumed its niche between his
legs. He knew that he had made a tremendous effect.

"But--but----" Miss Ingate began.

"Not worth the paper it's written on," he repeated. "There is only one
witness, and there ought to be two, and even the one witness is a bad
one--Aguilar, because he profits under the will. He would have to give up
his legacy before his attestation could count, and even then it would be no
good alone. Mr. Moze has not even expressly revoked the old will. If there
hadn't been a previous will, and if Aguilar was a thoroughly reliable man,
and if the family had wished to uphold the new will, I dare say the Court
_might_ have pronounced for it. But under the circumstances it hasn't the
ghost of a chance."

"But won't the National Reformation Society make trouble?" demanded Miss