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Blaisdell book."

"Indeed! How interesting! How are you, Mr.—Smith?" The lawyer smiled and held out his hand, but there was an odd constraint in his manner. "So you're a Blaisdell, too, are you?"

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"Er—yes," said Mr. Smith, smiling straight into the lawyer's eyes.

"But not near enough to come in on the money, of course," explained Mrs. Jane. "He isn't a Hiller-Blaisdell. He's just boarding here, while he writes his book.

"Oh I see. So he isn't near enough to come in—on the money." This time it was the lawyer who was smiling straight into Mr. Smith's eyes.

But he did not smile for long. A sudden question from Mellicent seemed to freeze the smile on his lips.

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"Mr. Norton, please, what was Mr. Stanley G. Fulton like?" she begged.

"Why—er—you must have seen his pictures in the papers," stammered the lawyer.

"Yes, what was he like? Do tell us," urged Mr. Smith with a bland smile, as he seated himself.

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"Why—er—" The lawyer came to a still more unhappy pause.

"Of course, we've seen his pictures," broke in Mellicent, "but those don't tell us anything. And YOU KNEW HIM. So won't you tell us what he was like, please, while we're waiting for father to come up? Was he nice and jolly, or was he stiff and haughty? What was he like?"

"Yes, what was he like?" coaxed Mr. Smith again. Mr. Smith, for some reason, seemed to be highly amused.

The lawyer lifted his head suddenly. An odd flash came to his eyes.

"Like? Oh, just an ordinary man, you know,—somewhat conceited, of course." (A queer little half-gasp came from Mr. Smith, but the lawyer was not looking at Mr. Smith.) "Eccentric—you've heard that, probably. And he HAS done crazy things, and no mistake. Of course, with his money and position, we won't exactly say he had bats in his belfry—isn't that what they call it?—but—"

Mr. Smith gave a real gasp this time, and Mrs. Jane Blaisdell ejaculated:—

"There, I told you so! I knew something was wrong. And now he'll come back and claim the money. You see if he don't! And if we've gone and spent any of it—" A gesture of despair finished her sentence.

"Give yourself no uneasiness on that score, madam," the lawyer assured her gravely. "I think I can safely guarantee he will not do that."

"Then you think he's—dead?"