abruptly and took him in their swinging circle. He went immediately to
the writing-room, laid aside his things and sat down. The first thing
to do, he decided, was to obtain an attorney and consult him regarding
the proper steps. For no other reason than that they had met
occasionally in the corridor he thought of Patrick Enright, a heavy-set
man with a loud voice and given to wearing expensive clothes.

Calling a page boy, he asked that Enright be located if possible.
During the ensuing wait he outlined on a scrap of paper what he
proposed doing. Fifteen minutes passed before Enright, suave and
apparently young except for growing baldness, appeared.

"I take it you are Mr. Cavendish," he said, advancing, "and that you
are in immediate need of an attorney's counsel."

Cavendish nodded, shook hands, and motioned him into a chair. "I have
been called suddenly out of town, Mr. Enright," he explained, "and for
certain reasons which need not be disclosed I deem it necessary to
execute a will. I am the only son of the late William Huntington
Cavendish; also his sole heir, and in the event of my death without a
will, the property would descend to my only known relative, a cousin."

"His name?" Mr. Enright asked.

"John Cavendish."

The lawyer nodded. Of young Cavendish he evidently knew.

"Because of his dissolute habits I have decided to dispose of a large
portion of my estate elsewhere in case of my early death. I have here