"Why did your father require all this money?" I asked, but Miss
Vaughan shook her head.
"He always kept money there," she said, "though I never knew the
amount."
[Illustration: "Oh, Master, receive me!"]
I glanced at the yogi, but his revery remained unbroken. Then I laid
the packets on the table and dipped deeper into the drawer. There were
two bank-books, some memoranda of securities, a small cash-book,
and, at the very bottom, an unsealed envelope endorsed, "Last will and
testament of Worthington Vaughan."
"Here we are," I said, took it out, and replaced the rest of the
contents. "Shall we read it now?"
"Yes, I should like to read it," she answered quietly.
The document was a short one. It had evidently been drawn by Vaughan
himself, for it was written simply and without legal phrases. It had
been witnessed by Henry and Katherine Schneider, and was dated only a
week previously--but three days before the murder.
"Who are these witnesses?" I asked.
"They are the cook and the gardener."
"Do you recognise your father's writing?"
"Oh, yes; there can be no question as to that."
It was a peculiar writing, and a very characteristic one; not easy to
read until one grew accustomed to it.
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