girl's perturbed spirit. To me it seemed that it might equally well mean many other things. For instance it might mean her apprehension for Gregory Hall, who, I couldn't help thinking was far more likely to be a wrongdoer than the girl herself.
With a little sigh I gave up trying to glean much information from the present opportunity, and contented myself with the melancholy pleasure it gave me simply to look at the sad sweet face of the girl who was already enshrined in my heart.
After the solemn and rather elaborate obsequies were over, a little assembly gathered in the library to hear the reading of the will.
As, until then, no one had known of the disappearance of the will, except the lawyer and the secretary, it came as a thunderbolt.
"I have no explanation to offer," said Mr. Randolph, looking greatly concerned, but free of all personal responsibility. "Mr. Crawford always kept the will in his own possession. When he came to see me, the last evening he was alive, in regard to making a new will, he did not bring the old one with him. We arranged to meet in his office the next morning to draw up the new instrument, when he doubtless expected to destroy the old one.
"He may have destroyed it on his return home that evening. I do not know. But so far it has not been found among his papers in either of his offices or in the bank. Of course it may appear, as the search, though thorough, has not yet been exhaustive. We will, therefore, hold the matter in abeyance a few days, hoping to find the missing document."
His hearers were variously affected by this news. Florence Lloyd was simply dazed. She could not seem to grasp a situation which so suddenly changed her prospects. For she well knew that in the event of no will being found, Joseph Crawford's brother would be his rightful heir, and she would be legally entitled to nothing at all.
Philip Crawford sat with an utterly expressionless face. Quite able to control his emotion, if he felt any, he made no sign that he welcomed this possibility of a great fortune unexpectedly coming to him.
Lemuel Porter, who, with his wife, had remained because of their close friendship with the family, spoke out rather abruptly,
"Find it! Of course it must be found! It's absurd to think the man destroyed one will before the other was drawn."
"I agree with you," said Philip Crawford.
"Joseph was very methodical in his habits, and, besides, I doubt if he would really have changed his will. I think he merely threatened it, to see if Florence persisted in keeping her engagement."
This was a generous speech on the part of Philip Crawford. To be sure, generosity of speech couldn't affect the disposal of the estate. If no will were found, it must by law go to the brother, but none the less the hearty, whole-souled way in which he spoke of Miss Lloyd was greatly to his credit as a man.
"I think so, too," agreed Mr. Porter. "As you know, I called on Mr. Joseph Crawford during the—the last evening of his life."
The speaker paused, and indeed it must have been a sad remembrance that pictured itself to his mind.
"Did he then refer to the matter of the will?" asked Mr. Randolph, in gentle tones.
"He did. Little was said on the subject, but he told me that unless Florence consented to his wishes in the matter of her engagement to Mr. Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her only a small bequest."
"In what manner did you respond, Mr. Porter?"
"I didn't presume to advise him definitely, but I urged him not to be too hard on the girl, and, at any rate, not to make a new will until he had thought it over more deliberately."
"What did he then say?"
"Nothing of any definite import. He began talking of other matters, and the will was not again referred to. But I can't help thinking he had not destroyed it."
At this, Miss Lloyd seemed about to speak, but, glancing at Gregory Hall, she gave a little sigh, and remained silent.
"You know of nothing that can throw any light on the matter of the will, Mr. Hall?" asked Mr. Randolph.
"No, sir. Of course this whole situation is very embarrassing for me. I can only say that I have known for a long time the terms of Mr. Crawford's existing will; I have known of his threats of changing it; I have known of his attitude toward my engagement to his niece. But I never spoke to him on any of these subjects, nor he to me, though several times I have thought he was on the point of doing so. I have had access to most of his private papers, but of two or three small boxes he always retained the keys. I had no curiosity concerning the contents of these boxes, but I naturally assumed his will was in one of them. I have, however, opened these boxes since Mr. Crawford's death, in company with Mr. Randolph, and we found no will. Nor could we discover any in the New York office or in the bank. That is all I know of the matter."
Gregory Hall's demeanor was dignified and calm, his voice even and, indeed, cold. He was like a bystander, with no vital interest in the subject he talked about.
Knowing, as I did, that his interest was vital, I came to the conclusion that he was a man of unusual self-control, and an ability to mask his real feelings completely. Feeling that nothing more could be learned at present, I left the group in the library discussing the loss of the will, and went down to the district attorney's office.
He was, of course, surprised at my news, and agreed with me that it gave us new fields for conjecture.
"Now, we see," he said eagerly, "that the motive for the murder was the theft of the will."
"Not necessarily," I replied. "Mr. Crawford may have destroyed the will before he met his death."
"But that would leave no motive. No, the will supplies the motive. Now, you see, this frees Miss Lloyd from suspicion. She would have no reason to kill her uncle and then destroy or suppress a will in her own favor."
"That reasoning also frees Mr. Hall from suspicion," said I, reverting to my former theories.
"Yes, it does. We must look for the one who has benefited by the removal of the will. That, of course, would be the brother, Mr. Philip Crawford."
I looked at the attorney a moment, and then burst into laughter.
"My dear Mr. Goodrich," I said, "don't be absurd! A man would hardly shoot his own brother, but aside from that, why should Philip Crawford kill Joseph just at the moment he is about to make a new will in Philip's favor? Either the destruction of the old will or the drawing of the new would result in Philip's falling heir to the fortune. So he would hardly precipitate matters by a criminal act. And, too, if he had been keen about the money, he could have urged his brother to disinherit Florence Lloyd, and Joseph would have willingly done so. He was on the very point of doing so, any way."
"That's true," said Mr. Goodrich, looking chagrined but unconvinced. "However, it frees Miss Lloyd from all doubts, by removing her motive. As you say, she wouldn't suppress a will in her favor, and thereby turn the fortune over to Philip. And, as you also said, this lets Gregory Hall out, too, though I never suspected him for a moment. But, of course, his interests and Miss Lloyd's are identical."
"Wait a moment," I said, for new thoughts were rapidly following one another through my brain. "Not so fast, Mr. District Attorney. The disappearance of the will does not remove motive from the possibility of Miss Lloyd's complicity in this crime—or Mr. Hall's either."
"How so?"
"Because, if Florence Lloyd thought her uncle was in possession of that will, her motive was identically the same as if he had possessed it. Now, she certainly thought he had it, for her surprise at the news of its loss was as unfeigned as my own. And of course Hall thought the will was among Mr. Crawford's effects, for he has been searching constantly since the question was raised."
"But I thought that yesterday you were so sure of Miss Lloyd's innocence," objected Mr. Goodrich.
"I was," I said slowly, "and I think I am still. But in the light of absolute evidence I am only declaring that the non-appearance of that will in