Dr. Crawford looked annoyed and blushed with shame.
"Did he say that?" he asked.
"Yes; he said his mother would not allow you to help Carl."
"He--misunderstood "
"Paul, I fear he understands the case only too well.
I don't want to pain you, but your wife
is counting on your speedy death."
"I told her I didn't think I should live long."
"And she got you to make a will?"
"Yes; did Peter tell you that?"
"He said his mother was to have control
of the property, and Carl would get nothing
if he didn't act so as to please her."
"There is some mistake here. By my will
--made yesterday--Carl is to have an equal share,
and nothing is said about his being dependent on anyone."
"Who drew up the will?"
"Mrs. Crawford."
"Did you read it?"
"Yes."
Ashcroft looked puzzled.
"I should like to read the will myself," he said,
after a pause. "Where is it now?"
"Mrs. Crawford has charge of it."
Reuben Ashcroft remained silent, but his mind was busy.
"That woman is a genius of craft," he said to himself.
"My poor friend is but a child in her hands. I did
not know Paul would be so pitiably weak."
"How do you happen to be here in Edgewood, Reuben?"
asked the doctor.
"I had a little errand in the next town, and
could not resist the temptation of visiting you."
"You can stay a day or two, can you not?"
"I will, though I had not expected to do so."
"Mrs. Crawford is away this afternoon. She
will be back presently, and then I will introduce you."
At five o'clock Mrs.
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