CHAPTER XIII
THE WILL OF THE ECCENTRIC MR. FRISBY
I have said that, owing to Quarles's dislike of publicity, I wasconstantly receiving praise which I did not merit; but in the curiousaffair of Mr. Frisby's will, although I received substantial benefits,the professor was obliged to put up with the eulogy. The case wasnever in my hands professionally; indeed, strictly speaking, there wasno case for the police to deal with. All I really did was to use myposition to clear away difficulties and give Quarles a clear field forhis investigations. He declared that he went into the thing for thesake of the reward which was offered, but it was undoubtedly theintricacy of the problem which attracted him.
I will tell Mr. Frisby's history as a connected narrative at once;but, of course, the theory was not complete when Quarles decided toattempt the solution of the difficulty. We got the outline fromnewspaper paragraphs and comments; but some of the details, such asthe tenor of Mr. Frisby's letter to his nephew, were only filled inafter we had taken up the case seriously.
James Frisby, a native of Boston, in Lincolnshire, was apparently avery ordinary young man indeed. He was a clerk in the office of asolicitor in the town, named Giles, and in his leisure hours wasinclined to consort with the most undesirable companions, and to be atoo frequent visitor to the public-house bars. Without his doinganything very outrageous, the position of black sheep of his familywas assigned to him, and a too puritanical spirit, perhaps, had judgedhim to be well on the downward path, when a girl named Edith Turner,the daughter of a small but prosperous farmer at Spilsby, came intohis circle. According to all accounts, she was the sort of girl anyman might fall in love with; exactly what she saw in James Frisby wasnot so apparent. However, there was undoubtedly mutual affection; butthe girl's family strongly objected to the friendship, and the girlherself was not to be persuaded to act in opposition to her father'swishes. Frisby pleaded, made all sorts of promises for the future,and, when these proved of no avail, he threw up his situation and wentto Australia.
There was evidently more in him than people gave him credit for. Sometwenty-five years afterward he returned to Boston an exceedinglywealthy man, and an eccentric one. He immediately entered intonegotiations to purchase the Towers, a large house some three milesout of Boston on the Spilsby Road. It had stood empty a long time, andhe spent an immense amount of money upon alterations and in furnishingit, giving no information to anyone concerning himself or hisintentions.
Twenty-five years had brought many changes. The old town nestling, anddozing a little perhaps, under the great church with its high tower, alandmark far across the fen country and out to sea, was much the same;but a new generation of people lived in it. Frisby's friends had gone,were dead or scattered about the world, and he had only one relationliving, a nephew, the son of an elder sister. Frisby Morton was inbusiness in London, was married and doing fairly well, and had so losttouch with his native place that he heard nothing about his uncle'sreturn until James Frisby had settled at the Towers.
Five or six years after Frisby had left Boston, Edith Turner hadbecome Edith Oglethorpe, the wife of a farmer. There was nothing toshow that she had grieved very much for her first lover, no suggestionthat she had not been a happy wife and mother. Both she and herhusband were dead when Frisby returned, and their later years had beenclouded with misfortune. Bad harvests and ill-luck had eaten up theirsavings, and they had been able to do very little for their only son.They appear to have had many ambitions for him, all of which remainedunfulfilled.
James Frisby found the lad, then between seventeen and eighteen, in agrocer's shop in Wide Bargate, one of the main thoroughfares of thetown, and at once proposed to adopt him. It was natural that Frisbyshould be interested in the son of the woman he had loved; it wasnatural, too, that the boy should jump at the prospect which openedout to him, but it was curious how quickly these two came to love eachother. For Frisby probably there was in the son something of what hehad loved in the mother; and the lad, no doubt, saw in the man allthose good and lovable qualities which Frisby took no trouble toexhibit to the world.
A tutor came to the Towers; in due course young Oglethorpe went toCambridge, and came home to be the constant companion of his adoptedfather. Such a life would have been bad for most young men, but EdwardOglethorpe appeared to be an exception to the rule. He had everybody'sgood word, not because of his wealthy position, but for his own sake.That he would come into all Frisby's money no one doubted.
There are few who are not attracted by wealth, and it was only naturalthat Frisby Morton should take an early opportunity of making himselfknown to his uncle. He was his only kith and kin; he might reasonablyhope to reap some advantage from his wealthy relative. Whether heapproached his uncle in too open a manner, or whether James Frisby hadsomething against his sister or brother-in-law, some injury which hehad nursed all these years and had not forgiven, was not known. Theone thing certain was that Frisby disliked his nephew and took sometrouble to make his adopted son dislike him too. Morton persistentlypaid flying visits to the Towers, getting small welcome, and on oneoccasion there was a quarrel, entirely of his uncle's making, Mortondeclared. That there was some truth in this seemed probable, forshortly afterward James Frisby wrote to him. It may be he consideredthe letter a sort of apology. He said frankly that he did not likehim, and that he didn't want to have anything more to do with him.
"It isn't your fault, and it isn't mine. It just happens," he wrote."Still, I do realize that you are my nephew, I do understand that youhave some reason for thinking that you have a claim upon me. That I ama rich man is my attraction for you. I know it; you need not scrupleto admit it. My money will all go to my adopted son, EdwardOglethorpe; but, as I have said, you are my nephew, and the enclosedcheck recognizes the relationship, and pays for it. Please understandthat it is all you will ever get."
The ungracious tone of the letter lost some of its sting by reason ofthe largeness of the check, which was for ten thousand pounds.Morton's credit was none too strong, so it suited his purpose to makeno secret of the gift. To one or two persons in Boston he showed Mr.Frisby's letter, which suggested that he realized the finality of thetransaction, and seemed content to drop his uncle's acquaintance.Whether he really gave up all hope of further advantage was anothermatter.
James Frisby's death, which occurred about ten years after his returnto England, caused a sensation not only in Lincolnshire, butthroughout the country. When he was taken ill it was not thought thatanything serious was the matter with him, but a stroke followed, andthe doctor pronounced his condition to be grave. Oglethorpeimmediately telegraphed to Morton. Apparently he had not troubledeither to like or dislike him, and thought it only right that thenephew should know of his uncle's condition. That Morton had receivedten thousand pounds he was aware, but he knew nothing of the letterwhich accompanied the gift, or he might have hesitated to send forhim. Morton came to the Towers and stayed there. His uncle had lostall power of speech, hardly seemed to recognize those about him, yetit was evident that something troubled him. They thought it was thelight in the room. They darkened it, and, that having no effect, theyincreased it, but failed to satisfy the old man, who worked his handsbackward and forward as if he were wringing them at the inability ofthose by his bedside to comprehend him. In this manner James Frisbypassed out of life.
The first note of sensation came quickly. No will could be found, andit was soon rumored that no will had been made. Mr. Giles, the chiefsolicitor in Boston, son of the Giles in whose office Mr. Frisby hadstarted life, had no will in his possession, nor had any othersolicitor in the town; and the advertisements which appeared in theLondon and provincial papers failed to produce any solicitor who had.Diligent search in the house was without result. Not only was there nowill, but there was not even a scrap of paper of any kind to indicatewhat the old man's wishes were. Mr. Giles, with an eye to business inthe future, made himself agreeable to Frisby Morton, who, if no willwere forthcoming, would come into the property as next of kin.
Thegeneral opinion was that no will had been made, but a servant at theTowers declared that he and another servant had witnessed theirmaster's signature to some document soon after Edward Oglethorpe hadcome there to live. The other witness had recently left the Towers,but was easily found in Lincoln. That they had witnessed the signatureto a will neither of them could affirm; their master had not said whatthe document was, but they had supposed it was his will. They bothagreed as to what the paper was like. Moreover, the man who had takenanother situation in Lincoln gave an item of information which addedto the sensation. Some little time after he had witnessed thesignature, he chanced to meet Mr. Frisby Morton in Boston, and in thecourse of conversation had mentioned what he had done. He could notsay that Mr. Morton was particularly interested, but he asked severalquestions about Mr. Frisby and young Mr. Oglethorpe. Gossip in aprovincial town, especially when it concerns an affair which everyoneis talking about, is apt to become a serious matter. It did in thiscase. It only required someone to say that Morton had been told of awill for someone else to suggest that he might know where the willwas at the present moment. This gossip found its way into Mr. Giles'soffice, and the solicitor gave immediate advice to his client. FrisbyMorton was furious. Rumors of libel actions were in the air, not onebut many, and Morton declared that the foul insinuation could onlyhave come from one source, and expressed his conviction thatOglethorpe was responsible for it. Oglethorpe, in his turn, wasindignant at being considered capable of such a thing, and put himselfinto the hands of Messrs. Lacey, a London firm of solicitors. It wasby their advice that a reward of a thousand pounds was offered toanyone who should find the will, or should give such information aswould lead to its discovery.
It was the publication of this reward which attracted Quarles'sattention.
"A thousand pounds, Wigan," he remarked. "Shall we go for it?"
I laughed; I thought he was joking.
"You are not busy, are you; you could give the time?" he queried.
"It is hardly in my line, is it?"
"Money is in everybody's line," he returned. "A thousand divided bythree is three hundred and thirty-three pounds six shillings and eightpence. Zena shall go with us. Let's get Bradshaw."
Two days later we were in Boston, comfortably housed at anold-fashioned hostelry called the Heron. Before leaving London I hadgot the outline of the case, and a few hours in Boston enabled me tofill in the details of the story as I have set it down here.
We had a small sitting-room at the Heron, as crammed full of furnitureas the room in Chelsea was empty.
"Who could really think in a room like this?" said Quarles.
"I don't know whether it's the fault of the room," I answered, "but Ihave no ideas at all about this affair."
Zena laughed.
"Oh! there are plenty of ideas to be had; the most obvious is that Mr.Frisby never made a will. That would be my verdict but for one fact:we have an eccentric to deal with."
Quarles looked at her fixedly.
"The man who could send ten thousand pounds to his nephew in the wayhe did would hardly be likely to leave any chance open of his evergetting a penny more," Zena said. "If he hadn't made a will before, Ithink he would have sat down and made it the moment after drawing thatcheck."
"The room doesn't affect her, Wigan," said the professor. "There'ssomething in the argument, but I shall have to get a lonely walkbefore I can see anything clearly. An eccentric; yes, I think that isa point to bear in mind."
Quarles had his walk before breakfast next day, and afterward he and Icalled upon Mr. Giles. The solicitor was evidently not pleased to seeus. Since the reward had been offered by Edward Oglethorpe he lookedupon us as antagonists; but as the professor argued, in his most suavemanner, the finding of the will, if it existed, must be a satisfactionto everybody, and might save immense trouble in the future. PossiblyMr. Giles did not perceive the cynicism in this argument.
"There is no will," he said with conviction.
"Do you imagine the servants' statement to be a fabrication, then?"
"No, but a man wants his signature witnessed to other documentsbesides a will. The fact that servants witnessed this document,whatever it was, suggests a careless and haphazard way of doingbusiness, a tendency to leave things to the last moment. I believe Mr.Frisby was that kind of man, and he would be quite likely to put offmaking his will until it was too late."
"It is possible," said Quarles.
"Probable, sir, almost a certainty. If there is a will I shall be moresurprised than I have been at anything in my professional career."
"Naturally, your conviction greatly impresses me," said Quarles.
"Why, sir, his manner on his deathbed confirms my view," the solicitorwent on. "He was speechless, practically unconscious, yet undoubtedlytroubled about something. He had left his will too late, sir; that wasthe trouble, depend upon it."
"Your client--I think you act for Mr. Morton--will profit by theomission. I suppose there is no doubt whatever that, if a will werefound, he would not be mentioned in it. He had already received hismoney, I understand."
"I have grave doubts on the subject," Giles answered. "If Mr. Frisbyhad ever sat down to make a will, I am inclined to think he would haverepented of the way in which he had treated his nephew. Personally, ifa will exists, I should not be surprised to find my client residuarylegatee."
"Our friend Giles has missed his vocation, Wigan," said Quarles, as hewalked back to the Heron, where he had ordered a carriage to drive usover to the Towers; "he should have turned his hand to writingromances instead of writing obscure English in legal documents."
"I have no doubt he will do exceedingly well if no will is found," Ianswered.
"No doubt. A mean man, Wigan, one who cannot help resenting thesuccess of others. He does not forget that James Frisby was once aclerk in his father's office."
"Still, it seems to me there is a great deal of force in what hesays," I remarked.
"It would interest me more to know what he really thinks," Quarlesreturned.
The Towers, exteriorly, was a barrack of a place, deriving its namefrom two square excrescences at either end of its long facade. Withinit was a treasure house. Furniture, pictures, china, silver, books,all were good. The taste displayed was cosmopolitan, even bizarre. Notin a single room was there any attempt at uniformity, nor any fixedplan of decoration. Jacobean furniture, Georgian, examples ofSheraton, Heppelwhite, and other English worthies in the art, rubbedshoulders with the work of the master makers of Italy and France, andwere crowded together with marvelous specimens from the East, fromIndia and Japan. The paintings were of many schools; the china, as aprivate collection, would be hard to beat; much of the silver wasunique, and rare books shared shelf room with the modern productionsof the printers' and binders' arts.
"An eccentric, Wigan," said Quarles, glancing rapidly around him."Zena was right in emphasizing that fact. We must bear it in mind."
Before leaving town I had taken the precaution of seeing Messrs.Lacey, the solicitors, and in consequence Edward Oglethorpe wasprepared for our visit and welcomed it. His appearance went to confirmthe reports we had heard of him. He was an upstanding, straightforwardyoung Englishman of the best type, one with whom it seemed impossibleto associate any kind of meanness.
The professor came to the point at once.
"May I take it, Mr. Oglethorpe, you have no reason to suspect thatFrisby Morton has had anything to do with the disappearance of thiswill?"
"The idea never suggested itself to me until he accused me of makingsuch a statement, then----"
"Quite naturally a doubt was raised in your mind," said Quarles. "Didit ever occur to you that Mr. Frisby had treated his nephew badly?"
"No; I knew he did not care for him, but I also knew he had given himten thousand pounds. Only since his death have I known of the letterhe sent with that check. I was, therefore, not aware that he intendedto leave him out of his will."
"You feel confident there was a will?"
Quarles nodded.
"I cannot explain what my adopted father was to me," Oglethorpe wenton, "nor how keenly I feel his death. The question of his wealth nevertroubled me. I was too happy and contented with him to give a thoughtto what my future would be without him. You can understand how hatefulthis business, this quarreling about his money, is to me."
"I can, I can," said Quarles, with ready sympathy, and with a fewdexterous questions he set Oglethorpe talking about the dead man.Never surely has a man had his virtues treated more lovingly or hisfaults so little remembered. To illustrate some reminiscence of hisadopted father, Oglethorpe led us from room to room to show us somecabinet or picture. It seemed to me, as I looked round, that therewere a thousand places where a will might be securely hidden, and mysympathy went out to this young fellow who stood to lose what therecould be no doubt he was intended to possess.
We came presently to the old man's sanctum. Quarles had not asked tosee it. He had followed Oglethorpe, content to listen to him, and onlyasking a short question at intervals. He seemed to grow keener in thisroom.
"Was he here a great deal?" the professor asked, looking round.
"He did all his business here, and if he wanted to talk to meseriously we came in here. He always put down the check for my collegeexpenses on this table with, 'There, my dear boy, don't spend itfoolishly and don't get into debt'--always the same words. I can hearthem now. It is a comfort to me to remember that I gave him no anxietyon that score."
"Of course this room has been searched very thoroughly?"
"The whole house has been searched from garret to cellar, but you areat liberty to look where you please."
"It would be superfluous labor, no doubt," Quarles answered. "Tell me,Mr. Oglethorpe, during this search were there any surprises? It seemscertain that if a will exists it must be in an altogether unexpectedplace. Now were things generally found in unexpected places? Forexample, there is a safe in that corner, I see; did you by any chancefind a pair of old slippers securely locked up in it?"
"There was nothing so eccentric as that," said Oglethorpe, "butcertainly we did come across unexpected things. Some old pipes werelocked in a cabinet in the drawing-room. We found a mass of worthlesspapers in that safe, while some valuable documents were under some oldclothes at the bottom of a drawer in his bedroom. In that chest by thewindow, which a burglar would find difficult to pick, he had lockedsome fragments of a worthless china vase, and in this table drawer,which has no lock at all, he kept the few letters he had received frommy mother. He looked upon them as one of the greatest treasures hepossessed, yet anyone might have opened the drawer and read theletters. Yes, the dear old man was a little eccentric in that way."
"Kept his old clothes, useless papers, broken fragments. He did notlike throwing things away."
"That is true."
"I suppose this room is much as he left it," said Quarles, picking upthe waste-paper basket and turning over the papers in it.
"Yes; practically nothing has been moved or altered in the wholehouse. I had everything put back exactly where it was found. Younotice that even the paper basket has not been emptied."
"May I open one or two drawers?" asked Quarles.
"You may search wherever you like," said Oglethorpe.
For a few minutes Quarles wandered round the room, opening a drawerhere, a cabinet there, and apparently looking at the contents in acasual manner.
"I should like to see the room where Mr. Frisby died, if I may," hesaid presently.
We went upstairs, and with a slow glance round it, Quarles seemed totake in every item it contained and every corner that was in it. Here,too, he opened several drawers.
"He died in the evening, I understand," said the professor.
"Just before midnight," Oglethorpe returned.
"He was unconscious, wasn't he?"
"He could not speak, but I do not think he was altogether unconscious.I believe he knew me."
"It has been suggested that he appeared to have something on hismind," said Quarles.
"I think it was the light that troubled him, but whether he wantedmore or less in the room we could not determine. We tried both withoutbeing able to satisfy him."
"Reviewing the circumstances of those last few hours, was thereanything which might point to the cause of this trouble?"
"I do not think so," Oglethorpe answered. "He moved his handscontinuously, but not in the least as if he were anxious to write.Such an idea did not occur to any of us. It was only afterward that wewondered whether he was troubled about his will."
"Who first started that idea?"
"I think it was Morton, but I am not sure."
"How did Mr. Frisby move his hands?"
"Like this, very slowly and feebly."
Oglethorpe held his hands before him an inch or two apart, theknuckles uppermost. The left hand he tilted slowly forward anddownward; the right upward and backward.
"You are quite sure that those were the exact movements?" said Quarlesafter watching him closely.
"Quite sure."
"They were the same the whole time? He did not vary them?"
"Not once."
Quarles turned and walked out of the room, and we followed him. Hepaused to examine a bronze figure standing on a pedestal on thelanding.
"Do you intend to begin your search at once?" Oglethorpe asked.
The professor did not answer.
"You can do so when you like," Oglethorpe went on.
"No," said Quarles with a start. He was not really examining thebronze, he was lost in thought. "No, not at once. I must think it outfirst. To-morrow, perhaps. I cannot say for certain."
It was by no means a hopeful answer, and I wondered if Quarles hadalready made some discovery which entirely destroyed his theory. Hisquestions and his insistency on certain points told me that he hadsome theory.
We had kept our carriage waiting.
"I'm going to walk, Wigan," said the professor. "I must be alone. Thatroad looks pretty flat and uninteresting; I shall go that way. It'simpossible to think in that room at the Heron. I may be some hours. Bythe way, you might try and find out if Frisby Morton is in Boston. Imight want to see him."
I drove back to the Heron, and in the afternoon I made inquiries aboutMorton. I found that a rumor had already been circulated in the townthat a great detective had come to the Towers, and there was someexcitement as to the reason of his visit. Mr. Giles must surely havementioned our call, I thought. I also heard that Frisby Morton hadleft for London by the mid-day train, and I wondered if there was anysignificance in the fact of his departure coinciding with Quarles'sarrival.
The professor did not return to the Heron until late. He was tired andhungry, and would neither talk nor listen to me until he had made asquare meal.
"I found a splendid spot to think in, Wigan," he said, when the threeof us were in our sitting-room. "A disused gravel-pit. I shared itwith a frog for a time, but he worried me so I took him by the leg andthrew him out. I looked for him afterward with the intention ofthrowing him in again. I could not find him, but as I was turningaway, would you believe it, he hopped in again of his own accord."
I was not in the mood for an AEsop fable, and with some impatience Itold him the results of my inquiries that afternoon.
"Gone, has he? Business called him to town, I presume?"
"Perhaps his solicitor wanted him to be out of reach of questions," Isuggested.
"Our friend Giles is quite capable of it," Quarles returned. "He hasnot impressed me; but to return to my frog. There were quite a numberof places near that gravel-pit which would have suited him equallywell; but no, he would get back to the pit. I cannot say he gave me anidea, but he helped to confirm one. The mind, be it frog's or man's,is certain to be biased by circum
stances and environment. If youwatched a frog through a period of time, apart from his actionsnecessary to life and well-being, you would find him doing certainother things, doing them to-day because he did them yesterday. Heacquires a habit. Men do the same. The more curious these actions are,the more eccentric the individual becomes. You remember Zena warned usthat we had to do with an eccentric in this affair, and therefore wasinclined to believe in the existence of a will."
Zena nodded.
"She based her belief on one point. When Mr. Frisby gave his nephewsuch a large sum of money, disliking him as he did, he would takespecial care that he should never touch another penny. A strongargument. Besides, there was the testimony of the two servants who hadwitnessed their master's signature to some document. On the other sidewas the outstanding fact that no will was forthcoming. Men do not putoff making their wills until too late. A man like Mr. Frisby, it mightreasonably be argued, when making his will, would go to a solicitor.He had a very large fortune to dispose of; he wished to benefit aperson who had no legal claim on him; he was particularly anxious thathis nephew should not get anything more. His early years in a lawyer'soffice would have shown him something of the pitfalls which await theamateur in legal matters. Further, there was the obvious distress ofthe dying man which might mean that he had neglected to make a will.On the whole, perhaps, the weight of evidence was against theexistence of a will."
"He was eccentric," murmured Zena.
"And more than that--he had made a fortune," said Quarles. "Now, tomake money a man usually requires to be business-like; and since hewas smart enough to make money, he would probably be smart enough tosee that it was disposed of as he wished. Rich and eccentric. In hiscase these two facts meant much. I came to the conclusion, Wigan, thatthere was a will. If I was right three possibilities existed. It mighthave been destroyed, it might have been stolen, or it was concealed insome unexpected place. That Mr. Frisby could destroy it by mistake washardly worth consideration, but he might destroy it purposely either,as Giles hinted, because he felt he had treated his nephew badly, orbecause he was dissatisfied with his adopted son. There is nothing tosuggest that his feelings toward either of these persons had changedin the least. I think Oglethorpe's conversation to-day bears that out,Wigan."
"Certainly," I answered.
"It might have been stolen. Such a theft could only profit oneperson--Frisby Morton, and incidentally, of course, Mr. Giles, sincehe would be able to run up a handsome bill of costs and secure awealthy client. We may not like Mr. Giles, but I do not think he woulddo anything illegal. What we hear of Frisby Morton does not tend toprepossess us in his favor. Having worried his uncle a great deal, hewas quickly upon the scene when he heard that no will had been found.He knew of the signing of a document from one of the witnesses. Thereis a possibility that his conversation with the servant might havegiven him an idea where the document was placed afterward. Further,Mr. Morton was almost suspiciously ready to resent all gossipconcerning himself, and at once attributed it to Edward Oglethorpe. Atthe same time, it must be remembered that he was Mr. Frisby's onlyliving relative, that, in a sense, young Oglethorpe was aninterloper, that at least he might expect something substantial fromhis uncle. He got it, and appears not to have troubled his uncle anymore. When Mr. Frisby died, apparently intestate, it was only naturalhe should come forward; in his peculiar position it was natural heshould resent the gossip. Any man would. Oglethorpe was nothing tohim. From his point of view he had got more right to the fortune thanOglethorpe, and if chance was to give him his rights so much thebetter."
"But he would probably have acted in the same way if he had stolen thewill," I said.
"True, but I have not ended my argument," said Quarles. "Whatopportunity had he for stealing it? He was an unwelcome visitor at theTowers, and does not appear to have stayed there during his uncle'slifetime. An accomplice is possible, but not probable. However, wecannot altogether dismiss Frisby Morton from our calculations, that iswhy I asked you to find out whether he was in Boston, Wigan."
"And he left when you came, perhaps because you came."
"At the instigation of friend Giles?" asked Quarles.
"Possibly."
"Let us examine the third proposition before we apply for a warrant,"said Quarles. "The will may have been hidden. If so, it must be in anunexpected place, all the likely places having been looked into. Wemust try and look into the mind of an eccentric. For a moment let ustake any ordinary man, and you will find that he exhibits certainpeculiarities. He is a creature of sequences, and he goes on repeatinghimself. He will continue to wear the same kind of clothes, eventhough the fashion changes. He will always put certain things into acertain pocket. He will arrange his papers, not in the best way, butin the way he has always arranged them. He can only write on a certainkind of paper with a particular make of pen. Such habits as these areacquired by quite an ordinary man, and no one thinks much about them.Now take a man not quite so ordinary. He gets a mania for storing upuseless odds and ends, dislikes destroying anything, touches everysecond post he passes in his walks, lives on one meal a day, perhaps,or becomes a vegetarian. We say of this man that he is rathereccentric. In short, we notice him because he exaggerates our ownpeculiarities. Man repeats himself, that is the point. He does a thinghis way, not yours. Now take a really eccentric man--Mr. Frisby. Wemay speak of specific peculiarities in his case, Wigan. He accumulateduseless papers and locked them up. He left valuable papers in an opendrawer. Broken fragments he carefully concealed in a chest; letterswhich he treasured he left where anyone might find them. Even if hedid destroy a paper he did not tear it up, he twisted it up. Some meninvariably tear paper across and across, others crumple it into aball. Mr. Frisby twisted it. You remember my looking into the paperbasket. There were no torn pieces in it, nor crumpled; they were alltwisted. A small thing, but significant. I looked into severaldrawers, you remember. In one was a duster, not just thrown in as youwould do, but twisted up. In his bedroom an old alpaca coat had beenthrown into a drawer, twisted up. Twisting was a habit of his. How itwas acquired I cannot say, but I should guess that in Australia theact of twisting or turning something was a necessary part of his day'swork. I have known many sailors acquire the habit. This habit, Iargued, might help us in our search. The will was not under lock andkey, Mr. Frisby did not keep his valuables like that; unless thesearch was incomplete it was not lying in an unlocked drawer. Was ittwisted up somewhere?"
"His hands," I said excitedly, moving my own as I had seen Oglethorpemove his.
"Exactly, Wigan, twisting, and more. You are making the motioncorrectly, I was careful to ascertain that. It is the action ofunscrewing. The will was screwed into something, and the dying man wastrying to make them understand that something had to be unscrewed."
"What is that something, dear?" asked Zena.
"They thought it was the light that troubled him," Quarles went on."We'll go to the Towers to-morrow, Wigan, and I think we shall findsome candelabrum, or, more likely, some old silver candlestick whichunscrews. If we do not, I think we shall have to get an interview withFrisby Morton somehow. That is why I wanted to know if he were inBoston. You see, there was a riddle to read, and a bare possibilityexists that Morton has read it already."
I thought this most unlikely, but the fact that Quarles had conceivedthe possibility showed how exceedingly careful he was of details. Thewill, a very short one, leaving everything to Edward Oglethorpe, wasfound in an old silver candlestick, which stood, as a rule, on a tablein Mr. Frisby's dressing-room.
It was a heavy candlestick which unscrewed just below the cup whichheld the candle, and the will was in the hollow stem.
Christopher Quarles insisted on dividing the reward into three parts.Zena certainly had had a definite conviction about the affair from thefirst, so perhaps earned her share; but I am very sure I did nothingto deserve mine.
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