"Well, it is natural that you should have your doubts," rejoined Sandal, coolly, and glanced at his watch. "But Lady Wyke will be here in a few minutes, as I have to see her to-day in regard to the property. Then she can tell you herself that what I say is true." "Yes, I'll wait," snapped Lemby, and sat down again with a determination to have it out with this undesirable woman, who had risen from the dead to upset his selfish plans. "She sees you with regard to the property?" "Yes. By a will made shortly after his marriage Sir Hector left all his property to his wife. That will has never been changed, and, therefore, holds good." Lemby contradicted. "Wyke told me that when he married Claudia he intended to make a will leaving all his property to her." "Quite so," said the solicitor, suavely. "And he would have done so when he was married. But as the marriage did not take place, there was no new will made." "Wyke should have made the will before marriage." Sandal laughed. "You are very ignorant of English law, Mr. Lemby," he observed drily. "A will made before marriage is waste paper when that marriage takes place. Until your daughter was Lady Wyke no disposition of the property on the lines of marriage, save in settlements, could have been made. Those settlements were drawn up, but not signed, therefore they are useless. And now that Sir Hector is dead the property goes to Lady Wyke by the only will which is in existence." "Cannot it be upset?" "No. The will is sound in law. I drew it up myself. And remember, Mr. Lemby, that in justice the widow of Sir Hector should inherit the five thousand a year which he died possessed of." Lemby scowled at the carpet and revolved schemes. He wanted the money badly, as he was worse off than Claudia knew, even though he had given her a hint of coming poverty. But he saw no means of securing again what he had lost unless Lady Wyke was disposed to be gracious, and recompensed Claudia for her presumed disappointment. He therefore determined to wait and see if Lady Wyke was a person whom he could manage. Possibly he might coax or bully her into what he called justice. And it was at this stage of his meditations that the wife of Sir Hector entered the room. "Good-day, Mr. Sandal," said Lady Wyke, in a high, shrill voice, hard and rather rasping in its tone. "I fear that I am late." Mr. Sandal assured the newcomer that she was not late, and placed a chair for her near his desk. Lemby rose in a lumpish, ungracious fashion and glared at the fashionable little woman as though he could have slain her with a look. She cast a careless glance at him, looked him over from head to foot, and then glanced inquiringly at the lawyer. "Is there any reason why this gentleman should wait?" asked Lady Wyke, and raised a lorgnette to her fine dark eyes to criticise the pirate. "Mr. Lemby will explain himself why he is here, Lady Wyke."