_For I believe you
know!_"
The woman shrank from him, until she was sitting on her lean haunches,
her hands flattening against her cheeks. For a long minute she did not
attempt to answer. Her right eye widened enormously, then slowly grew as
expressionless as the milky left ball.
"I--don't--know," she said dully. Then, with vehement emphasis: "_I
don't know!_ If I did, I'd kill him with my own hands!"
Dundee had no choice but to take her word.
"You said there was a message for me," Lydia reminded him.
"I'll read you her will first," Dundee said quietly, lifting the sheets
again: "I am herewith setting down my last will and testament, in my own
handwriting. I do here and now solemnly will and bequeath to my faithful
and beloved maid, Lydia Carr, all property, including all moneys, stocks
and personal belongings of which I die possessed--"
"To--_me_?" Lydia whispered. "To me?"
"To you, Lydia," Dundee assured her gravely.
"Then I can have all her pretty clothes to keep always?"
"And her money, to do as you like with, if the court accepts this will
for probate--as I think it will, regardless of the fact that it is very
informal and was not witnessed."
"But--she didn't have any money," Lydia protested. "Nothing but what
Mrs.
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