"Forest," said the other.

Sir Giles Molehill slapped himself upon the thigh.

"That's right!" he cried. "Forest! John Forest!"

The presence of a rapidly increasing crowd and four constables at once
discountenanced any further ebullition of glee, and emphasized the
discretion of withdrawal.

The Judge thought rapidly.

"Look here," he continued, "my club's just over there." He nodded
across the street. "If you'll wait a moment, I'll fetch the
commissionaire. He can take charge of your luggage, and then, if
you'll come in and have some tea with me, I shall be delighted."

"You're very good," said the other.

Mr. Justice Molehill hastened away....

Ten minutes later the two men were seated before a comfortable fire,
absorbed in each other's conversation.

"That will," said the Judge, "which you and I witnessed in 1914 has
never been proved."

"That," said his guest, "is, I fear, my fault. At the present moment
it's lying in a drawer of my writing-table at Rome."

"No?" cried his lordship, twittering.

Monseigneur Forest nodded.

"If you remember," he said, "after you and I had witnessed the old
gentleman's signature, I took charge of it."

"That's right. You were going to take it to the British Consulate, to
see if----"

"They'd stamp it. Exactly. Well, I was too late that day. I attended
the next morning, and, after a little difficulty, they consented, for
what it was worth, to put a seal on it. Then I went back to the hotel.
When I asked whether the testator was still alive, they told me he'd
gone."

"Gone?" cried the Judge incredulously. "But the man was dying."

"Dying or not, he'd left for Paris that morning. To the amazement of
the manager he had quietly walked into the office, asked for his bill,
and ordered a cab to be sent for and his luggage to be brought down.
Apparently the doctor attending him had tried to protest, and had been
sent away with a flea in his ear. I can only assume that the old
fellow was subject to some violent malady, which comes and goes
suddenly, one of whose attacks he has been warned will prove fatal."

"What an amazing thing!" said his lordship. "It never occurred to me
that he would survive the night. However, as it happens, it doesn't
affect the validity of that will. He's dead now. He died in 1917.
But the will that was proved and is lying at Somerset House was made in
1910."

"You mean to say that the will we witnessed supersedes it?"