mansion at a quarter past four. At five o'clock in the afternoon the
lawyer was found dead in Phoenix Park. Between a quarter past four and
eight o'clock in the evening Percival Brooks never left the house--that
was subsequently proved by Oranmore up to the hilt and beyond a doubt.
Since the will found under old Brooks' pillow was a forged will, where
then was the will he did make, and which Wethered carried away with him
in his pocket?"

"Stolen, of course," said Polly, "by those who murdered and robbed him;
it may have been of no value to them, but they naturally would destroy
it, lest it might prove a clue against them."

"Then you think it was mere coincidence?" he asked excitedly.

"What?"

"That Wethered was murdered and robbed at the very moment that he
carried the will in his pocket, whilst another was being forged in its
place?"

"It certainly would be very curious, if it _were_ a coincidence," she
said musingly.

"Very," he repeated with biting sarcasm, whilst nervously his bony
fingers played with the inevitable bit of string. "Very curious indeed.
Just think of the whole thing. There was the old man with all his
wealth, and two sons, one to whom he is devoted, and the other with whom
he does nothing but quarrel. One day there is another of these quarrels,
but more violent, more terrible than any that have previously occurred,
with the result that the father, heartbroken by it all, has an attack of
apoplexy and practically dies of a broken heart. After that he alters
his will, and subsequently a will is proved which turns out to be a
forgery.

"Now everybody--police, press, and public alike--at once jump to the
conclusion that, as Percival Brooks benefits by that forged will,
Percival Brooks must be the forger."

"Seek for him whom the crime benefits, is your own axiom," argued the
girl.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Percival Brooks benefited to the tune of L2,000,000."

"I beg your pardon. He did nothing of the sort. He was left with less
than half the share that his younger brother inherited."

"Now, yes; but that was a former will and--"

"And that forged will was so clumsily executed, the signature so
carelessly imitated, that the forgery was bound to come to light. Did
_that_ never strike you?"

"Yes, but--"

"There is no but," he interrupted. "It was all as clear as daylight to
me from the very first. The quarrel with the old man, which broke his
heart, was not with his eldest son, with