“Main thing I’m interested in,” he confided, “is to find out if Mrs. Breese made any special request for the funeral. It’s going to be a sad business, that. And it’s up to me to take care of it. The children aren’t up to it, and Mr. Breese is just about all in. I want to get him off to the States as fast as possible.” The Russian looked up significantly at Smith, but the detective made no comment. Then the aged office boy ushered the actor in. For the occasion, Mr. Thomas had donned conservative blue flannels, black shoes, a pale blue shirt, and a black four-in-hand. He wove his mourning into the ensemble. His expression was slightly defiant as he looked at us. No one spoke after the actor entered. Mr. Brennon began turning over long sheets of paper, and examining them through his thick glasses. The Russian mopped his red face, for the room was stifling hot. It was fully ten minutes before the elder Breese was announced. He was accompanied by the Countess and his son. Mr. Breese seemed to have recovered somewhat from his agitation. Something of his habitual hardness had returned to his expression and he was quite curt with us. The Countess was dressed in black, and because she had been annoyed by persistent news photographers, her white, haggard face was swathed in a heavy veil. Her brown eyes seemed unnaturally large and bright. Her brother, who followed her in, took his place carefully away from the rest of us. He, too, showed signs of the emotional shock he had undergone, and he smoked many cigarettes while we waited for the lawyer to begin. I noticed that he looked at the actor but once and then with obvious hatred. There was a stiff restrained silence for a moment. The old lawyer had spread the will before him. “It is my duty,” he quavered, “to read you the last will and testament of the late Dora Huntington Breese.” He paused and brought the document closer to his thick glasses. Then he plunged into the usual formula of Mrs. Breese’s soundness of mind at the time the will was composed. The first few paragraphs disposed of several bequests to favorite servants. Five thousand dollars was given the Association for the Reform of Marriage--of which I had never heard--and sums in proportion to the Speyer Home for Animals, the Society for Psychical Research, the Juilliard Foundation and the Girl Scouts of America. Surely, a strange coupling of movements! The lawyer read on tremulously. I took notes of the will, and I found my pencil making comments upon what I had heard. Thus I wrote: “_To my daughter, the Countess Giering-Trelovitch, I leave the income of a trust fund ... three hundred thousand dollars for life ... on condition that the said trust fund revert to the estate should she resume relationship in any way, shape, manner or form, with her divorced husband, the Count Giering-Trelovitch._”