The lawyer bowed.

 

"I believe you wish to execute a will, Mrs. Trimble?" said he.

 

"Yes," answered the poor mother, in a spiritless tone.

 

Various questions were asked in relation to the property, and then the lawyer seated himself at a table and wrote the formal part of the will.

 

"I understand you wish to leave the entire property to your husband?" he said, in a tone of inquiry².

 

"In the event of my son's death," interpolated Mrs. Trimble.

 

"But, my dear, he is dead," said Abner Trimble, with a slight frown.

 

"I would prefer to have it expressed in this way."

 

"I am sure," continued Trimble, annoyed, "that Mr. Coleman will consider it unnecessary."

 

"I see no objections to it," said the lawyer. "Of course, the son being dead, it won't count."

 

"Mr. Coleman," explained Mrs. Trimble, "I have no reason to doubt my poor son's death, but I didn't see him die, and there may have been a mistake."

 

"How can there be?" demanded Trimble, impatiently. "Didn't my friend Floyd see him drowned?"

 

"He may have been mistaken. Besides, he only says he did not see him after the boat upset. He may have been picked up by some other boat."

 

For the first time Trimble and Floyd saw the flaw in the story, which had been invented by Trimble himself.

 

"Was there any boat near, Floyd?" asked Trimble, winking³ significantly.

 

"No, sir; not within a quarter of a mile."

 

"Edward could swim. He may have reached one by swimming."

 

This was news to Trimble. He had not been aware that his stepson could swim.

 

"Under the circumstances," said the lawyer, "I think Mrs. Trimble is right."

 

Trimble looked panic-stricken. Knowing that Edward Granger was still living he recognized the fact that such a will would do him no good.

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