this deed. It is not for my brother Rufus and Elnathan Stone and me to decide this question."
"To decide what question?" said Gaul.
"Whether you are to live or die!" said Abner.
The hunchback's face grew stern and resolute. He sat down in his chair, put his stick between his knees and looked my uncle in the eyes.
"Abner," he said, "you are talking in some riddle. . . . Say the thing out plain. Do you think I forged that will?"
"I do not," said Abner.
"Nor could any man!" cried the hunchback. "It is in my brother's hand—every word of it; and, besides, there is neither ink nor paper in this house. I figure on a slate; and when I have a thing to say I go and tell it."
"And yet," said Abner, "the day before your brother's death you bought some sheets of foolscap of the postmaster."
"I did," said Gaul—"and for my brother. Enoch wished to make some calculations with his pencil. I have the paper with his figures on it."
He went to his desk and brought back some sheets.
"And yet," said Abner, "this will is written on a page of foolscap."
"And why not?" said Gaul. "Is it not sold in every store to Mexico?"
It was the truth—and Abner drummed on the table.
36
