For these three, he pointed out, were the common enemy of
reason. "And in compensation for the discharge of such duties as may come
under the requirements of this trusteeship, the aforesaid Braden Lanier
Thorpe shall receive the fees ordinarily allotted by law and, in addition,
the salary of twenty-five thousand dollars per annum, until the terms of
this instrument are fully carried out."

Anne Tresslyn Thorpe was named as executrix of the will.

CHAPTER XVIII

Simmy Dodge was the first to speak. He was the first to grasp the full
meaning of this deliberately ambiguous will. His face cleared.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, without respect for the proprieties. He slapped
Braden on the back, somewhat enthusiastically. "We sha'n't have to smash
it, after all. It's the cleverest thing I've ever listened to, old man.
What a head your grandfather had on his--"

Braden leaped to his feet, his face quivering. "Of course we'll smash it,"
he stormed. "Do you suppose or imagine for an instant that I will allow
such a thing as that to stand? Do you--"

"Go slow, Brady, go slow," broke in his excited, self-appointed lawyer.
"Can't you see through it? Can't you see what he was after? Why, good
Lord, man, he has made you the principal legatee,--he has actually given
you _everything_. All this rigmarole about a trust or a foundation or
whatever you want to call it amounts to absolutely nothing. The money is
yours to do what you like with as long as you live. You have complete
control of every dollar of it. No one else has a thing to say about it.
Why, it's the slickest, soundest will I've--"

"Oh, my God!" groaned Braden, dropping into a chair and covering his face
with his hands.

Judge Hollenback was smiling benignly. He had drawn the will. He knew that
it was sound, if not "slick," as Simmy had described it. The three
Tresslyns leaned forward in their chairs, bewildered, dumbfounded. Their
gaze was fixed on the shaking figure of Braden Thorpe.

As for Wade, he had sunk helplessly into a chair. A strange, hunted look
appeared in his eyes. His chin sank lower and lower, and his body
twitched. He was not caring what happened to Braden Thorpe, he was not
even thinking about the vast fortune that had been placed at the young
man's disposal. His soul was sick. In spite of all that he could do to
prevent it, his gaze went furtively to Murray's rubicund jowl, and then
shifted to the rapt, eager face of his young mistress. Twenty