The Brute Part 13

Brennan bowed, but declined the chair. "I shall keep you but a moment.

My business is with your wife, Mr. Rogers, but I came at this hour, in the hope of finding you at home as well. The matter concerns you both. I am an attorney, of the firm of Gruber, McMillan, Brennan & Shaw, of Number 11 Wall Street."

"Yes?" replied Donald, looking in surprise at Edith. She with Alice, and the mother, who had risen from her chair, stood regarding the visitor with interest.

"I regret to say," continued Mr. Brennan, in an even tone, "that I have come upon a very sad errand."

The fears which had been torturing Edith all the evening suddenly took a more concrete form. "What!" she cried, clutching at her breast--"I--I don't understand."

"You were acquainted with Mr. William West, were you not, Mrs. Rogers?"

He turned to her with a look of interrogation.

Edith stared at him in wide-eyed terror, her fingers convulsively clutching the lace at her throat. "Were!" she cried. "Were!" then relapsed into silence. Donald seemed surprised at her agitation; to him it meant nothing. He turned to Mr. Brennan. "Certainly. Billy West. He's one of my best friends."

"It is with the deepest regret that I am obliged to inform you of his death." Mr. Brennan's voice was not so even as it had been, and held a note of sorrow. He had been genuinely fond of West, and the latter's death was a great shock to him.

Edith shrank back with a cry, her hand over her eyes, as though trying to ward off this sudden blow. Her sister put her arm about her. "Edith!"

she whispered, and spoke to her in a low voice. The others were too much surprised by the lawyer's announcement to give much attention to her agitation.

Donald was the first to speak. "Dead! Billy West dead! Impossible!" He gazed at Mr. Brennan with a stare of incredulity.

"Unfortunately not, Mr. Rogers. I only wish it were. Mr. West died suddenly last Friday in Denver, Colorado, following an operation for appendicitis."

In his sudden realization of his friend's death, Donald turned away, the tears very near the surface. "Poor old chap!" he muttered. "Poor old Billy!" He looked over at his wife. "Edith, isn't it terrible? Think of it, Billy West dead."

"Why do you come to tell us? How do you know?" asked Edith, staring at Mr. Brennan in a frightened way.

"I have been Mr. West's attorney for a number of years. I received word of his death this morning."

"Poor young man! I always liked him so much!" Mrs. Pope a.s.sumed an expression of deep solicitude. "He was very well off, was he not, Mr.

Brennan?"

"Very," answered Brennan shortly, then turned to Donald. "You knew Mr.

West very well, I take it?"

"Intimately. We had been bosom friends for years. He was in my cla.s.s at college. I loved him like a brother. He had a heart of gold, Mr.

Brennan. Of all the men I know, he was the squarest and best friend.

You cannot realize what his death means to us. Edith, isn't it sad?"

Edith began to cry. "I--I can't realize it," she sobbed; "it seems so terrible."

Brennan drew a thin, folded doc.u.ment from his pocket, and regarded it critically through his eyegla.s.ses. "He must have thought a great deal of you--and Mrs. Rogers," he observed, glancing at Donald.

"I am quite sure he did, Mr. Brennan, but why--?"

Brennan interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "I will explain," he said. "Before Mr. West died, he made a will. It was drawn up by an attorney in Denver who, acting on Mr. West's instructions, at once communicated with me. I am the executor of the estate."

"But, Mr. Brennan, how does the matter concern us?" Donald was becoming a trifle impatient under the continued strain of Mr. Brennan's significant manner.

"The best way to answer that, Mr. Rogers," said Brennan, adjusting his eyegla.s.ses, and unfolding the doc.u.ment he held in his hand, "is to read the will."

With a sudden start, Edith dashed the tears from her eyes and turned toward the lawyer. She was conscious of a horrible fear--a feeling of dread lest this doc.u.ment, to which Mr. Brennan evidently attached such sinister importance, might contain something, she knew not what, which would apprise Donald of her relations with the dead man, and, like a voice from the grave blast her whole life. "Why is it necessary to read it?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Brennan turned and observed her gravely through his gla.s.ses. "Because, Mrs. Rogers," he replied, "this doc.u.ment concerns you most intimately.

It isn't very long." Again he took up the will and prepared to read.

"I--I don't want to hear it," sobbed Edith.

"Edith, what is wrong with you? Why should Mr. Brennan not read the will if it contains matters which concern us?" Donald turned to the lawyer.

"You must pardon my wife, Mr. Brennan. This sad news has completely upset her. Go ahead." He went over to Edith and, taking her arm, led her to a chair. "You had better sit down, Edith, and let Mr. Brennan finish what he has to say. There is no occasion for all this excitement."

"But, Donald--listen--I--"

"Never mind now. We are detaining Mr. Brennan." His voice was impatient, and he looked at her curiously. "Go ahead, sir," he said, "and let us have the matter over with, whatever it is, as quickly as possible."

Brennan, clearing his throat with a nervous cough, took up the will and began to read.

"'I, William West, being of sound mind, do hereby make this my last will and testament.

"'I give, devise and bequeath all my property, whether real or personal, and wherever situated, to Edith Pope Rogers, wife of Donald Evan Rogers, of New York City.'"

He paused, and glanced about to note the effect of his words. Edith had slowly risen from her chair, and her face was a picture of horrified amazement. Donald, almost equally surprised, looked from the lawyer to her, apparently unable to speak. Alice and Mrs. Pope were dumfounded.

The whole party stood in silence regarding Mr. Brennan as though they could scarcely grasp what they had heard.

Suddenly the tenseness of the moment was broken. Edith had come slowly toward Brennan, her hand outstretched, her face white with horror.

"No!--my G.o.d! No!" she cried, then tottered and would have fallen had her mother not stepped quickly forward and supported her. "I can't take it--I can't take it!" she cried, in spite of her mother's attempts to quiet her.

"The remainder of the will," continued Brennan coldly, as he folded up the doc.u.ment and placed it in his pocket, "refers only to my appointment as executor." He removed his gla.s.ses and looked at Donald.

"You mean that he has left everything to my wife?" gasped the latter, faintly.

"Everything."

"No! No!" cried Edith.

"Be quiet, my child," Mrs. Pope said soothingly, then turned to the lawyer. "How much did he leave, Mr. Brennan?" she asked.

"I cannot say exactly, madam. It will be impossible to tell until the estate is settled up. Probably not less than half a million."

[Ill.u.s.tration: EDITH HAD SLOWLY RISEN FROM HER CHAIR, AND HER FACE WAS A PICTURE OF HORRIFIED AMAZEMENT]

"Half a million!" Mrs. Pope collapsed limply into a chair. "Edith!

Half a million! Think of it!" She sat gazing before her with a half-incredulous smile, as though the thought of so much money were difficult of digestion.

"Mr. Brennan, I can't understand it--I can't believe it." Donald's voice was trembling with excitement. "Why should he have left Mrs. Rogers all this money? Had he no relatives--no connections--who would have a better right to it?"

"None, I understand. In any event, the will would stand. Mr. West has shown his affection for your wife by leaving her his entire fortune. No court could break that will."

"What a man!" exclaimed Donald. "I knew he was very fond of us; we had been friends for years, but I never thought of anything like this." He went up to his wife and took her hand. "Edith," he said earnestly, "do you realize what it means? Poor old Billy has made you a rich woman."