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Page 58
My father stopped by the table and lifted his great shoulders.
"And so," he said, "Peyton Marshall imagined a plan like that,
and left its execution to a Mr. Gosford!"
The Englishman put down his pen and addressed my father.
"I would advise you, sir, to require a little proof for your
conclusions. This is a very pretty story, but it is prefaced by
an admission of no evidence, and it comes as a special pleading
for a criminal act. Now, sir, if I chose, if the bequest
required it, I could give a further explanation, with more
substance; of moneys borrowed by the decedent in his travels and
to be returned to me. But the will, sir, stands for itself, as
Mr. Lewis will assure you."
Young Marshall looked anxiously at the lawyer.
"Is that the law, sir?"
"It is the law of Virginia," said Lewis, "that a will by a
competent testator, drawn in form, requires no collateral
explanation to support it."
My father seemed brought up in a cul-de-sac. His face was tense
and disturbed. He stood by the table; and now, as by accident,
he put out his hand and took up the Japanese crystal supported by
the necks of the three bronze storks. He appeared unconscious of
the act, for he was in deep reflection. Then, as though the
weight in his hand drew his attention, he glanced at the thing.
Something about it struck him, for his manner changed. He spread
the will out on the table and began to move the crystal over it,
his face close to the glass. Presently his hand stopped, and he
stood stooped over, staring into the Oriental crystal, like those
practicers of black art who predict events from what they pretend
to see in these spheres of glass.
Mr. Gosford, sitting at his ease, in victory, regarded my father
with a supercilious, ironical smile.
"Sir," he said, "are you, by chance, a fortuneteller?"
"A misfortune-teller," replied my father, his face still held
above the crystal. "I see here a misfortune to Mr. Anthony
Gosford. I predict, from what I see, that he will release this
bequest of moneys to Peyton Marshall's son."
"Your prediction, sir," said Gosford, in a harder note, "is not
likely to come true."
"Why, yes," replied my father, "it is certain to come true. I
see it very clearly. Mr. Gosford will write out a release, under
his hand and seal, and go quietly out of Virginia, and Peyton
Marshall's son will take his entire estate."
"Sir," said the Englishman, now provoked into a temper, "do you
enjoy this foolery?"
"You are not interested in crystal-gazing, Mr. Gosford," replied
my father in a tranquil voice. "Well, I find it most diverting.
Permit me to piece out your fortune, or rather your misfortune,
Mr. Gosford! By chance you fell in with this dreamer Marshall,
wormed into his confidence, pretended a relation to great men in
England; followed and persuaded him until, in his ill-health, you
got this will. You saw it written two years ago. When Marshall
fell ill, you hurried here, learned from the dying man that the
will remained and where it was. You made sure by pretending to
write letters in this room, bringing your portfolio with ink and
pen and a pad of paper. Then, at Marshall's death, you inquired
of Lewis for legal measures to discover the dead man's will. And
when you find the room ransacked, you run after the law."
My father paused.
"That is your past, Mr. Gosford. Now let me tell your future. I
see you in joy at the recovered will. I see you pleased at your
foresight in getting a direct bequest, and at the care you urged
on Marshall to leave no evidence of his plan, lest the
authorities discover it. For I see, Mr. Gosford, that it was
your intention all along to keep this sum of money for your own
use and pleasure. But alas, Mr. Gosford, it was not to be! I
see you writing this release; and Mr. Gosford" - my father's
voice went up full and strong, - "I see you writing it in
terror - sweat on your face!"
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