the Judge also departed this life, leaving an estate valued in excess of five hundred thousand dollars.  Philo Henley and wife had but one child, now a young man of twenty-five years, named Philip.  As a boy he was wild and unmanageable, and, finally, when about twenty years old, some prank occurred of so serious a nature that the lad ran away.  He came North, and was unheard-of for some time, living under an assumed name.  Later some slight correspondence ensued between father and son, and the boy was granted a regular allowance.  The father was a very eccentric man, harsh and unforgiving, and, while giving the boy money, never extended an invitation to return home.  Consequently Philip remained in the North, and led his own life.  He became dissipated, and a rounder, and drifted into evil associations.  Finally, about six months ago, he married a girl in this city, not of wealthy family, but of respectable antecedents.  Her home, we understand, was in Spokane, and she had an engagement on the stage when she first met Henley.  He married her under his assumed name and they began housekeeping in a flat on the north side.”

He paused in his recital, took a drink, his eyes turning toward Neale; then resumed in the same level voice: 

“The Judge learned of this marriage in some way, and began to insist that the son return home with his wife.  Circumstances prevented, however, and the visit was deferred.  Meanwhile, becoming more eccentric as he grew older, the father discharged all his old servants, and lived the life of a recluse.  When he died suddenly, and almost alone, he left a will, probably drawn up soon after he learned of his son’s wedding, leaving his property to Philip, providing the young man returned, with his wife, to live upon the estate within six months; otherwise the entire estate should be divided among certain named charities.  Three administrators were named, of whom Neale here was one.”

I glanced back at the man referred to; he was leaning forward, his elbow on his knees, and, catching my eyes, drew a legal-looking paper from his pocket.

“Here is a copy of the will,” he said, “if Craig cares to examine it.”

“Not now,” I replied.  “Let me hear the entire story first.”

Vail leaned back in his chair, a cigar between his lips.

“The administrators,” he went on, as though uninterrupted, and repeating a set speech, “endeavored to locate young Henley, but failed.  Then Mr. Neale was sent here to make a personal search.  He came to me for aid, and legal advice.  Finally we found the flat where the young couple had lived.  It was deserted, and we learned from neighbors that they had quarreled, and the wife left him.  We have been unable to discover her whereabouts.  She did not return to, or communicate with, her own people in the West, or with any former friends in this city.  She simply disappeared, and we have some reason to believe committed suicide.  The body of a young woman, fitting her general description, was taken from the river, and buried without identification.”