“Jack and I took dinner together in a private room at Young's the next day. We decided that it was my duty to present the will for probate. Although it is presumed by the statutes of this Commonwealth that a will is signed by a living man, I was unable to find anything in said statutes to prevent a dead man, if he were so disposed and able, or enabled, doing so.” “Of course the will was presented for probate,” said Quincy. “It was,” replied Ned, “and despite the energetic efforts of the avaricious son-in-law, was admitted. His lawyer brought up the point that the will should have had three witnesses, but I showed him the note, told him Mrs. Bliss's story, and declared that I would fight the case up to the Supreme Court if necessary. “There was no doubt in the mind of the registrar as to the authenticity of the will for was it not duly signed and witnessed by Dr. Bannister, a physician of the highest repute, and Lawyer Colbert, a bright and shining light of the legal profession?” “Your story taxes my credulity,” said Quincy, “but I will not allow it to break our friendship. Tom, kindly ring for that supper to be sent up.” He looked at his watch. “Doctor, you've time to spare. 'Tis only nine-thirty.” CHAPTER XXXI THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the great detective bureau was over seventy years of age, and, although he still had a general supervision over the business, and was in his office for a short time anyway, nearly every day, he was leaving the details more and more to his subordinates. From the very beginning Mary Dana had made wonderful improvement in her detective work, and the results of her last case, on which she had been kept in the West for several months, were so satisfactory that she was given practically the entire management of the Bureau. One day, shortly after her return from the West, Mr. Isburn called her into his private office. He took great interest in electrical inventions, and had one in his office of a decidedly novel design. Back of his office chair, standing against the wall, just behind the door that led into the hallway, was a mahogany bookcase fully seven feet in height. Upon the top were several valuable statuettes, but the most noticeable object was a rosy-cheeked apple. It was not really an apple--only an imitation of one--made of brass. Using the stem as a handle, the upper portion of the apple could be lifted off, forming a cover. The apple was fastened firmly to the top of the bookcase. While talking over the case in hand with her employer, Miss Dana chanced to fix her eyes upon the brass apple. “Mr. Isburn, why do you keep that peculiar ornament on the top of your bookcase?” “Oh, you mean the apple. It contains something that is very valuable. The method of opening it is a secret, but as somebody may succeed in doing so some day I will show you its contents, for otherwise I might be unable to prove that it contained anything.”