"Well," persisted Mrs. Agar, "I am sure Jem did not make a will."
Mr. Rigg bowed and resumed his seat. He took up a penholder and smiled, presumably at his own sunny thoughts.
Mrs. Agar was one of those fatuous ladies who think themselves capable of tricking a professional man out of his fee. She had a vague notion that if one asks a lawyer a question the price of his answer is at least six shillings and eightpence. Up to this point in the interview she was serenely conscious of having eluded the fee.
"I presume," she remarked carelessly, in pursuance of this economical policy, "that in such a case the property would go unconditionally to the second son."
"There are contingent possibilities," replied the man of subterfuge blandly. He did not mean anything at all, but shrewdly guessed t
