“Just about,” nodded the lawyer. “Since then Moore has been more morose and crabbed than ever. He has refused to recognize either his daughter or her husband, and even young Thorpe has scarce been able to endure him. As his solicitor, I have occasionally been out to see him, and was always glad to return. A more surly and perverse old codger could not be imagined.” “Has he made a will?” inquired Keene. “Yes.” “Disinheriting his daughter?” “Yes.” “Who is his residuary legatee?” “His nephew.” “Does Thorpe know of this will?” “I think not,” replied Mr. French. “In fact, I am quite sure of it, for the will is in my possession, and Moore was not a man to have disclosed his intentions.” “Who witnessed the document?” “Two of my clerks, and it was drafted and executed in my office. I am very sure that the existence of this will is not known to Thorpe nor to Mabel Jeffrey.” “What’s the value of the estate?” “Something like fifty thousand dollars.” “Who has been living with Moore?” “His housekeeper is a middle-aged English woman named Haynie, who has been in his employ since his wife died. He keeps one man, also, who works about the farm and stable. These, with Thorpe, are the only members of his household.” “Thorpe has not been there much, you say?” “Only at intervals. I think he has not found the old man congenial, and his persistent absence, which has rather offended Moore, further convinces me that Thorpe knows nothing about the will in his favor.” “That is a very reasonable inference,” admitted the detective, “and, possibly, does away with a motive. Is Thorpe a man of good character?” “Yes, and is very generally liked. At the time of Mabel’s marriage he made great efforts to induce her father’s forgiveness; but, Heaven preserve him! One might as well have pleaded to a stone wall. Jacob Moore was as harsh and inflexible as--ah! here is the station! Thorpe will probably send the carriage for us.” The train was slowing down. The lawyer arose while speaking and began to put on his overcoat. Sheridan Keene restrained him in the aisle for a moment, and said inquiringly: “So far as you know, then, these are the bare facts?” “Yes,” said the lawyer quickly. “Do you make anything of them?” “Nothing at all, sir. It is too early in the game. One word more!” “Well?” “Introduce me here as a clerk from your office, not as a detective!” “I understand.” “And take no notice of what I may say and do.” “Rely on my discretion!” nodded Mr. French approvingly, as they approached the door of the car. CHAPTER III. CONSTABLE BRAGG. It had turned ten o’clock. Though the sun was now well up and the sky cloudless, the air continued biting cold and the ground was frozen hard. It was a branch station at which the two men alighted, and only a single carriage stood at the narrow platform.