The Man from Brodneys | Page 2

Taswell Skaggs's will. The letter had come in the morning's
mail, heralded by a rather vague cablegram the week before. To be
brief, Mr. Bowen recently had been named as joint executor of the will,
together with Sir John Allencrombie, of London, W.C., one time

neighbour of the late Mr. Skaggs. A long and exasperating cablegram
had touched somewhat irresolutely upon the terms of the will, besides
notifying him that one of the heirs resided in Boston. He was instructed
to apprise this young man of his good fortune. This he delayed in doing
until after he had obtained more definite information from England.
The full and complete statement of facts was now before him.
There was one very important, perhaps imposing feature in connection
with the old gentleman's will: he was decidedly sound of mind and
body when it was uttered.
When such astute lawyers as Bowen & Hare give up to amazement, the
usual forerunner of consternation, it is high time to regard the case as
startling. Their practice was far-reaching and varied; imperviousness
had been acquired through long years of restraint. But this day they
were sharply ousted from habitual calmness into a state of mind
bordering on the ludicrous.
"Read it again, Bowen."
"The will?"
"No; the letter."
Whereupon Mr. Bowen again read aloud the letter from Bosworth,
Newnes & Grapewin, this time slowly and speculatively.
"They seem as much upset by the situation as we," he observed
reflectively.
"Extraordinary state of affairs, I must say."
"And I don't know what to do about it--I don't even know how to begin.
They're both married."
"And not to each other."
"She's the wife of a Lord-knows-what-kind-of-a-lord, and he's married
to an uncommonly fine girl, they say, notwithstanding the fact that she

has larger social aspirations than he has means."
"And if that all-important clause in the will is not carried out to the
letter, the whole fortune goes to the bow-wows."
"Practically the same thing. He calls them 'natives,' that's all. It looks to
me as though the bow-wows will get the old man's millions. I don't see
how anything short of Providence can alter the situation."
Mr. Bowen looked out over the house-tops and Mr. Hare laughed softly
under his breath.
"Thank heaven, Bowen, he names you as executor, not me."
"I shall decline to serve. It's an impossible situation, Hare. In the first
place, Skaggs was not an intimate friend of mine. I met him in
Constantinople five years ago and afterward handled some business for
him in New York. He had no right to impose upon me as if------"
"But why should you hesitate? You have only to wait for the year to
roll by and then turn your troubles over to the natives. Young Browne
can't marry Miss Ruthven inside of a year, simply because there is no
Miss Ruthven. She's Lady--Lady--what's the name?"
"Deppingham."
"And Browne already has one Mrs. Browne to his credit, don't you see?
Well, that settles it, I'd say. It's hardly probable that Browne will
murder or divorce his wife, nor is it likely that her ladyship would have
the courage to dispose of her encumbrance in either way on such short
notice."
"But it means millions to them, Hare."
"That's their unfortunate lookout. You are to act as an executor, not as a
matrimonial agent."
"But, man, it's an outrage to give all of it to those wretched islanders.
Bosworth says that rubies and sapphires grow there like mushrooms."

"Bosworth also says that the islanders are thrifty, intelligent and will
fight for their rights. There are lawyers among them, he says, as well as
jewel diggers and fishermen."
"Skaggs and Lady Deppingham's grandfather were the only white men
who ever lived there long enough to find out what the island had stored
up for civilisation. That's why they bought it outright, but I'm hanged if
I can see why he wants to give it back to the natives."
"Perhaps he owes it to them. He doubtless bought it for a song and,
contrary to all human belief, he may have resurrected a conscience.
Anyhow, there remains a chance for the heirs to break the will."
"It can't be done, Hare, it can't be done. It's as clean an instrument as
ever survived a man."
It is, by this time, safe for the reader to assume that Mr. Taswell Skaggs
had been a rich man and therefore privileged to be eccentric. It is also
time for the writer to turn the full light upon the tragic comedy which
entertained but did not amuse a select audience of lawyers on both
sides of the Atlantic. As this tale has to do with the adventures of
Taswell Skaggs's heirs and not with the strange old gentleman who
sleeps his last sleep literally in