The news of John Marsh's death was most welcome to Mr. Cooley. He was taking a vacation in Europe and enjoying the sights of Paris when his New York office notified him of what had occurred, and he cabled that he would return at once. For a long time the wily attorney had had his eye on the Marsh millions. Otherwise, how explain his close friendship for Jimmy Marsh? Such a poor, weak fool could have nothing in common with the famous lawyer whose brain teemed only with big schemes. If he tolerated Jimmy, and dined and wined him and got him elected at his club when no other club would admit him, it was with a purpose distinctly Machiavellian in view. When Jimmy's financial affairs reached an acute crisis it was always Mr. Cooley who obligingly bridged the chasm. Jimmy, as already hinted, had borrowed freely on his prospects. Cooley was nearly always the lender. Now the time had come to settle, and Mr. Cooley promised himself not only to get back his own, plus interest, but a substantial bonus besides. He knew a few things about Jimmy Marsh--things Jimmy would rather not have the world, and especially the yellow newspapers, know. And no doubt Jimmy would pay up like a man. The money had come at a most convenient time. He had some big deals on hand and needed cash badly. Things could not have turned out better. He would go back at once and get in touch with things. It was while he was hurrying from his hotel to go and secure his passage home by the first steamer that he stumbled across Tod, who cheerfully accepted his invitation to drink to the health of the inheritance. Tod, who had been silent for a few minutes, apparently lost in thought, suddenly blurted out: "What gets me is that the old man left Jimmy any money at all! They never saw each other. The old man utterly disapproved of his brother's way of living, and had nothing to do with him." "There was no one else to whom he could leave it--that's why," replied the lawyer. "John Marsh," he went on, "was a peculiar man. He was distant and reserved, I might say secretive--even with me, his legal adviser. No one knew the real workings of his mind. I drew up his will according to a rough draft, written by him." "When was that?" "Twenty-five years ago." Tod gave vent to an expressive whistle. "So Jimmy has been waiting twenty-five years?" "Yes," said the lawyer, "twenty-five years--the average span of human life." "Suppose he has made another will since? Did Jimmy ever think of that?" Mr. Cooley shrugged his shoulders. "No--no danger of that. Why should he? If he had, wouldn't I know of it? I have always remained on the best of terms with the old gentleman. I have attended to other legal business for him, so if he did change his mind in regard to the disposition of his estate, why wouldn't he come to me? No, I don't think so. He kept aloof from his brother, but it's no more than he did from anyone else. The man was eccentric--peculiar--you must let it go at that."