where the late Stanford Marvin's lawyers had offices.

In vain the great lawyer cudgeled his brains for some flaw. The will
ought to be wrong, but it wasn't. The meaning was so clear that even a
court couldn't misunderstand it, and the fortune was left to his
natural beneficiaries. The lawyer heaved a sigh and said plaintively:

"Too bad, too bad. Why didn't they call me?"

"Then this will is not valid?" asked Owen.

"Oh, no, it will hold; but what a pity that such a great man's last
will and testament should be such an--well, so--well, this
instrument is not worthy of conveying such a great estate."

He contemptuously slipped the simple document into an envelope and
placed it in his safe. Owen picked up his hat, but hesitated at the
door. A question was forming in his mind and with it a hope.

"Mr. Wilmerding," he asked finally, "in case Miss Marvin does not marry
who would have charge of the estate?"

"I should say," replied the lawyer, "in reply to your question that the
estate would be held in trust by you."

Returning to the house and entering the library Owen was confronted by
the unwelcome spectacle of Montgomery Hicks, generally known as Mug.
Hicks, with his gaudy attire, and ugly face, was always an affront to
the eye, but to Owen he was a terror, for he held the power of
blackmail over the secretary. Owen shrank at the sight of his enemy,