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.”