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
the lad ran away. He came North, and was unheard-of for some time,
living under an assumed name. Later some slight correspondence ensued
between father and son, and the boy was granted a regular allowance.
The father was a very eccentric man, harsh and unforgiving, and, while
giving the boy money, never extended an invitation to return home.
Consequently Philip remained in the North, and led his own life. He
became dissipated, and a rounder, and drifted into evil associations.
Finally, about six months ago, he married a girl in this city, not of
wealthy family, but of respectable antecedents. Her home, we
understand, was in Spokane, and she had an engagement on the stage when
she first met Henley. He married her under his assumed name and they
began housekeeping in a flat on the north side."

He paused in his recital, took a drink, his eyes turning toward Neale;
then resumed in the same level voice:

"The Judge learned of this marriage in some way, and began to insist
that the son return home with his wife. Circumstances prevented,
however, and the visit was deferred. Meanwhile, becoming more
eccentric as he grew older, the father discharged all his old servants,
and lived the life of a recluse. When he died suddenly, and almost
alone, he left a will, probably drawn up soon after he learned of his
son's wedding, leaving his property to Philip