"Oh, yes; we have arranged to probate it Monday. You can examine it
then, if you wish."
"Have you examined it?"
"I am familiar with its provisions. It was drawn here in the office."
He was pulling furiously at his moustache.
"Cousin Philip was a very wealthy man, I understand," he managed to
say.
"Comparatively wealthy. He had securities worth about a million and a
quarter, besides a number of pieces of real property--and, of course,
the house he lived in. He owned a very valuable collection of art
objects--pictures, furniture, tapestries, and such things; but what
they are worth will probably never be known."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because he left them all to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Outside
of a few legacies to old servants, he left his whole fortune to the
same institution."
I put it rather brutally, no doubt, but I was anxious to end the
interview.
Mr. Morgan's face grew very red.
"He did!" he ejaculated. "Ha--well, I have heard he was rather
crazy."
"He was as sane as any man I ever knew," I retorted drily. And then I
remembered the doubts which had assailed me that last day, when
Vantine was fingering the Boule cabinet.
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