"Not particularly--but there is a limit."

He slowly lit a fresh cigar, studying the expression of my face in the
light, as though deciding upon a course of action. Neale moved
uneasily, but made no attempt to break the silence. Finally, with a
more noticeable drawl in his voice, the man in the armchair began his
explanation.

"Very good; we 'll come down to facts. It will not take long. In the
first place my name is Vail--Justus C. Vail. That may tell you who I
am?"

I shook my head negatively.

"No; well, I am a lawyer of some reputation in this State, and my
entire interest in this affair is that of legal adviser to Mr. Neale.
With this in mind I will state briefly the peculiar circumstances
wherein you are involved." He checked the points off carefully with
one hand, occasionally glancing at a slip of paper lying on the table
as though to refresh his memory. I listened intently, watching his
face, and dimly conscious of Neale's restlessness. "Here is the case
as submitted to me: Judge Philo Henley, formerly of the United States
Circuit Court, retired at sixty-four and settled upon a large
plantation near Carrollton, Alabama. His wife died soon after, and, a
week or so ago, the Judge also departed this life, leaving an estate
valued in excess of five hundred thousand dollars. Philo Henley and
wife had but one child, now a young man of twenty-five years, named
Philip. As a boy he was wild and unmanageable, and, finally, when
about twenty years old, some prank occurred of so serious a nature that