core
have been somewhat limited, I trust I have neglected none. And
now--well, I can't possibly see why the closing up of his affairs
should interest me at all. Can you?"

"Say, you don't think I'm doin' any volunteer frettin' on your account,
do you?" says I.

"I quite understand," says he. "But about seeing this lawyer--do you
advise me to go?"

He's squintin' at me foxy out of them shifty eyes of his, cagy and
suspicious, like we was playin' some kind of a game. You know the sort
of party J. Bayard is--if you don't, you're lucky. So what's the use
wastin' breath? I steps over and opens the front office door.

"Don't chance it," says I. "I wouldn't have anything happen to you for
the world. I'll tell Judson I've come alone, to talk for the dictograph
and stand on the trapdoor. And as you go down the stairs there better
walk close to the wall."

J. Bayard, still smilin', takes the hint. "Oh, I may turn up, after
all," says he as he leaves.

"Huh!" says I, indicatin' deep scorn.

But if I'd been curious before about this invite to the law office, I
was more so now. So shortly after two I was on hand. And I find Mr.
Steele has beat me to it by a minute or so. He's camped in the waitin'
room, lookin' as imposin' and elegant as ever.

"Well, you ain't been sandbagged or jabbed with a poison needle yet, I
see," says I.

He glances around uneasy. "Mr. Judson is coming," says he. "They said he
was--here he is!"

Nothin' terrifyin' about Judson, either. He's a slim-built, youngish
lookin' party, with an easy, quiet way of talkin', a friendly, confidin'
smile; but about the keenest, steadiest pair of brown eyes I ever had
turned loose on me. He shakes us cordial by the hand, thanks us for
bein' prompt, and tows us into his private office.

"I have the papers all ready," says he.

"That's nice," says I. "And maybe sometime or other you can tell us what
it's all about?"

"At once," says he. "You are named as co-executors with me for the
estate of the late Curtis B. Gordon."

At which J. Bayard gasps. "I?" says he. "An executor for Pyramid
Gordon?"

Judson nods. "I understand," says he, "that you were--ah--not on
friendly terms with Mr. Gordon. But he was a somewhat unusual man, you
know. In this instance, for example, he has selected Professor McCabe,
whom he designates as one of his most trusted friends, and yourself,
whom he designates as his--ah--oldest enemy. No offense, I hope?"

"Quite accurate, so fa