it."

"I don't understand about the three years," said Tarboe, with rising
colour.

"No, because I haven't told you, but you'll take it in now. I'm going to
leave you the business as though you were going to have it for ever, but
I'll make another will dated a week later, in which I leave it to Carnac.
Something you said makes me think he might come right, and it will be
playing fair to him to let him run himself alone, maybe with help from
his mother, for three years. That's long enough, and perhaps the thought
of what he might have had will work its way with him. If it don't--well,
it won't; that's all; but I want you to have the business long enough to
baulk Belloc and Fabian the deserter. I want you for three years to
fight this fight after I'm gone. In that second secret will, I'll leave
you two hundred thousand dollars. Are you game for it? Is it
worthwhile?"

The old man paused, his head bent forward, his eyes alert and searching,
both hands gripping the table. There was a long silence, in which the
ticking of the clock upon the wall seemed unduly loud and in which the
buzz of cross-cut saws came sounding through the evening air. Yet Tarboe
did not reply.

"Have you nothing to say?" asked Grier at last. "Won't you do it--eh?"

"I'm studying the thing out," answered Tarboe quietly. "I don't quite
see about these two wills. Why shouldn't the second will be found
first?"