and begin to speak. Even the woman who had been crying at the far end of the room suddenly grew silent.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said in his smooth and oily tones, "all this is, in a way, somewhat irregular, and somewhat outside the usual procedure. But as you know, the case is extraordinary. This poor child, my client, has not long to be with us. But as the sole heir and possessor of the Bartlett estate the solemn duty devolves upon her of disposing of that estate as she sees fit. For that reason and toward that end I was two days ago called in to prepare this last will and testament of Clarissa Rhinelander Bartlett, And you have been called together to witness that signature and to testify to the regularity of the procedure in even its minutest details. Is that quite clear to you all?"
Nobody answered, but the woman at the far end of the room began to cry again, quite audibly. And old Ezra Bartlett made an impatient sign for the man of the law to get busy.
"Now, my dear, if you will listen," the old lawyer said, stepping closer to my side. Then he looked over the rim of his glasses at me. "Can you hear me, quite clearly?"
"Quite clearly," I whispered back.
