I saw Smith look at the Russian. I know that in my note-book I wrote: “Indirect motive for the Count! Mrs. Breese hated him, and the antagonism was undoubtedly mutual!” “_To Guy Thomas, I bequeath the income of seventy-five thousand dollars in trust as an expression of my gratitude for his loyal friendship and companionship. Should Mr. Thomas remarry, this trust fund will revert to the estate._” The actor looked up, puzzled, and disappointed, I think. I find in my note-book: “Breese lied about the will. Score one for the Russian!” Then, as I looked at my notes of the Thomas portion of the estate my eye caught the word “remarry.” I wrote: “Investigate. Mr. Thomas is a bachelor. Did Mrs. Breese propose marrying him when she made out the will? Evidently.” The actor’s exact status after he arrived in Havana had never been plain to me. Mrs. Breese first announced her engagement to him on board the yacht. After her son’s attempt at suicide, she had apparently recanted. Then she had changed her mind once more. And yet, if Thomas’ own story were true, she accepted without protest his plan to marry a New York chorus girl, and even proposed financing the venture. “_To my first husband, Henry Breese, I leave no reproaches but an earnest entreaty not to subject another woman to the suffering he has caused me._” I saw the old man wince, and the Countess turn toward him, as if to comfort him. Henry Breese, Jr., received the residuary estate. As executor, Mrs. Breese named her “_loyal friend, Gordon Rice, and I implore my children to show him the same obedience and respect that they would give their own father were he worthy of it_.” Another blow at the elder Breese! Seemingly the antagonism, at least, on Mrs. Breese’s side, was even more deep-rooted than I had suspected. Then followed the strangest portion of this strange document: “_Three days after my death, when it is established that life cannot possibly return to my body, I desire that my body be burned and cremated. The ashes are to be placed in a suitable urn and brought on board the yacht Mary Rose, no matter where it may be docked, at my death. At the hour of midnight my ashes are to be scattered into the sea. There are to be no prayers, no music and no flowers. The ceremonial is to be carried out exactly as I have instructed. I have never been free in my stay upon earth, and in the life hereafter I want nothing more than to ride the seven seas, my soul as free as the winds._” CHAPTER XV WEATHER PREDICTION Smith and I looked at each other incredulously. But later I reasoned that the melodramatic exit Mrs. Breese had elected was entirely in keeping. Even in death Mrs. Breese wanted to make news of herself. I could picture her dictating her lurid wishes to the old lawyer and relishing his amazement. I am convinced that she regarded the will as essentially meaningless. She probably thought she would change it a half-dozen times before she was done playing with the prospect of death.