“Who are the heirs?” asked Mr. Haight.
“You see when you can tell me so little about
it—”
Mr. Haight was tall and bent and beetle-browed.
He had been recommended to Anthony as an astute and
tenacious lawyer.
“I only know vaguely,” answered Anthony.
“A man named Shuttleworth, who was a sort of
pet of his, has the whole thing in charge as administrator
or trustee or something—all except the direct
bequests to charity and the provisions for servants
and for those two cousins in Idaho.”
“How distant are the cousins?”
“Oh, third or fourth, anyway. I never even
heard of them.”
Mr. Haight nodded comprehensively.
“And you want to contest a provision of the
will?”
“I guess so,” admitted Anthony helplessly.
“I want to do what sounds most hopeful—that’s
what I want you to tell me.”
“You want them to refuse probate to the will?”
Anthony shook his head.
“You’ve got me. I haven’t any
idea what ‘probate’ is. I want a share
of the estate.”
“Suppose you tell me some more details.
For instance, do you know why the testator disinherited
you?”
“Why—yes,” began Anthony.
“You see he was always a sucker for moral reform,
and all that—”
“I know,” interjected Mr. Haight humorlessly.
“—and I don’t suppose he ever
thought I was much good. I didn’t go into
business, you see. But I feel certain that up
to last summer I was one of the beneficiaries.
We had a house out in Marietta, and one night grandfather
got the notion he’d come over and see us.
It just happened that there was a rather gay party
going on and he arrived without any warning.
Well, he took one look, he and this fellow Shuttleworth,
and then turned around and tore right back to Tarrytown.
After that he never answered my letters or even let
me see him.”
“He was a prohibitionist, wasn’t he?”
“He was everything—regular religious
maniac.”
“How long before his death was the will made
that disinherited you?”
“Recently—I mean since August.”
“And you think that the direct reason for his
not leaving you the majority of the estate was his
displeasure with your recent actions?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Haight considered. Upon what grounds was
Anthony thinking of contesting the will?
“Why, isn’t there something about evil
influence?”
“Undue influence is one ground—but
it’s the most difficult. You would have
to show that such pressure was brought to bear so that
the deceased was in a condition where he disposed
of his property contrary to his intentions—”
“Well, suppose this fellow Shuttleworth dragged
him over to Marietta just when he thought some sort
of a celebration was probably going on?”
“That wouldn’t have any bearing on the
case. There’s a strong division between
advice and influence. You’d have to prove
that the secretary had a sinister intention.
I’d suggest some other grounds. A will is
automatically refused probate in case of insanity,
drunkenness”—here Anthony smiled—“or
feeble-mindedness through premature old age.”
