"I repeat for the third time," continued the lawyer, "the remarks I have already made. Our friend Geoffrey Rutherford was extremely eccentric. He was not the least out of his mind, his brain was as sound, his reason as clear as any man could desire. Nevertheless he was a very uncommon character. He lived a queer, lonely, inhospitable life. As regards money he was miserly. And yet, and yet," continued the lawyer, "I have known him generous--generous to a fault." "Perhaps you will oblige us by coming to the point, sir," here interrupted the testy old man. Mr Gray favoured him with a short, impatient glance. "I will," he said. "Yes, I will come to the point without further delay. The point is the will. I am about now to speak of my friend's will." Here all the company settled down into a hushed, expectant state. Their interest was so keen that the proverbial pin might have been heard to drop. "If Geoffrey Rutherford was more eccentric in one particular than another," continued Mr Gray, clearing his voice, "it was on the subject of wills. In the course of his long life he made several--to each of these wills he added codicils. The wills and the codicils were all peculiar, but none, none so peculiar as the last. It is with regard to the last will and testament of my esteemed friend that I am now going to speak." "You will read us the will, perhaps, Mr Gray," interposed an anxious-looking relative. Mr Gray gave her a long glance. "Under the circumstances, no," he said. "My friend's last will is long, and full of technicalities. It is without a flaw anywhere; but to hear it read would be tedious, and you must excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, if I refuse to gratify what can only, at the present moment at least, be regarded as idle curiosity. For the will as it now stands affects no one present." "It is scarcely fair not to read it, however," said the red-faced lady. "After a funeral the will is always read. This is, I think, ordained by law, and ought to be enforced." "I am sorry," repeated Mr Gray, taking no notice of the old lady's remark, which made her frightfully irate. "It would be tedious to read the will, so I decline to do so. I have, however, a letter from my late client, which embodies the principal provisions in it, and that I shall be happy to read aloud for the benefit of every one present." Here Mr Gray cleared his throat, and putting on his glasses, began to read. Cousin Geoffrey's letter ran as follows:-- "My dear Gray: