Kaye leaving his office.
"Have you sent those papers to your solicitor?" he asked.
"No; I was just going to take them round to him. I have been thinking
that it will be necessary to ascertain that there is no will of Miss
Halliday's subsequent to this; and that will be rather difficult to find
out. Women never know when to leave off making wills, if they once begin
making them. They have a positive rage for multiplying documents, you
know. If the testator in that great codicil case had been a woman, a jury
would scarcely have refused to believe in the story of half a dozen
different codicils hidden away in half a dozen different holes and
corners. Women like that sort of thing. Of course, I quite understand
that you bring me the will in all good faith; but I foresee difficulties
in raising money upon such a security."
"You need give yourself no further trouble about the matter," said Mr.
Sheldon coolly. "I find that I can do without the money, and I've come to
reclaim the papers."
Mr. Kaye handed them to his client. He was not altogether pleased by this
turn of affairs; for he had expected to profit considerably by Mr.
Sheldon's necessities. That gentleman honoured him with no further
explanations, but put the papers in his pocket, and wished the
bill-discounter good day.
And this was the last time that Philip Sheldon was ever seen in his
character of a solid and respectable citizen of London.
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