An extremely wealthy but reclusive man has died, leaving an eccentric will which hints at great riches hidden somewhere in the house.
a pang strongly akin to jealousy shot through him as it seemed that those eyes were resting on the young elegant at his side.
"Yes," said the old solicitor, suddenly, and his voice made all start but Miss D'Enghien, who did not even move her eyelids; "as I was saying," he went on, tapping his snuff-box, "I can tell you very little, Mr Capel, until the will is read."
"Then there is a will?" said Miss D'Enghien.
The old lawyer's brows wrinkled, as he glanced at her in surprise.
"Yes, my dear young lady, there is a will."
"And it will be read, of course, directly after the funeral?" said the dark young man.
The lawyer did not reply.
"I suppose you think it's bad form of a man asking such questions now; but really, Mr Girtle, it would be worse form for a fellow to be pulling a long face about one he never saw."
"But he was your father's friend."
"Oh, yes, of course."
"Hence you, sir, are here," continued the lawyer. "My instructions were clear
Although this is a pleasant read, the high expectations promised in the preface did not work out for me.
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