THE WHITE ROOK.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 8, 20 May 1893, Page 14

THE WHITE ROOK.

(From Harper’s Weekly.) Chapter VI.

St. Valentine’s day, 1886, came at last. The weighty question that meant so ranch to the actors of onr drama was now to be decided. While the birds were pairing—if they are ever so imprudent as to do so thns early in onr wintry latitude —while th eshop windows were hideous with caricatures, while Jack Harding smoked innumerable cigarettes and sported his bulging white overcoat, little cane, and too shiny hat on the Avenue, the dwellers in what was once Jason Willoughby’s home gathered to hear his last will and testament. Messrs Waite and Saltum scuffled in, mumbling, at half-past one. The library was prepared for the coming function, in the middle was a long table, with eight chairs, At the end of the room was a chess table covered with black cloth. Hext it was Mr Willoughby’s leathern chair. On one side was his favourite desk, or secretary. Over the mantel was his portrait —a striking likeness, painted by Humington. Opposite this was a companion portrait of his late wife, The room was sombre, and the spirit of its former owner might, with no gi-eat effort of fancy, have been supposed to be brooding about it. At ten minutes to two Messrs Mote and Beam ratted up in a cab ; and the executors, the attorneys, and the relatives and connections of the dead man ranged themselves at the long table. Mr Waite sat at the head, and Mr Saltum at the foot. On Mr Waite’s right sat Mr Mote; on Mr Saltum’s right, Mi* Beam, and on either side, thus filling the eight seats, sat Mr and Mrs Richard Barton, Mrs Willoughby and her daughter Bessie. At the chess table, in a chair facing Willoughby’s, was Thomas Dale. He, as* well as Barton, had been asked by the executors to be present, and their respective seats had been thus assigned to them. At precisely two o’clock, Mr Mote, signalled by Mr Waiter drew from a bag a small oblong packet. This he slowly unfastened, and produced a box. This he deliberately opened, and then spoke : “It is my duty,” he said solemnly, *‘such being the instructions of the late Mr Jason Willoughby—which, however, only yesterday came to the knowledge of his executors and attorneys —to show and to read to all here the contents of this box before reading Mr Willoughby’s will.” So saying, he extracted from the box, and calmly put upon the table .before him, the White Rook. Richard Barton started with amazement. “ They have found it,” he thought, “ and with it, naturally, the will. How surprisingly ! At the very last moment, too! Well, what matter ? The will leaves all, or nearly all, to Imogene, and—” “In this chessman, this castle, or rook,” pursued Mr Mote, “we have found a paper.” “ Confirmatory, of course,” thought Richard. He had read the will, which being entirely to his liking, he had thought it prudent not to tamper with the Rook. “ Which paper,” continued Mr Mote, “ explains how it happened that we knew nothing previously to its reception of the whereabouts of Mr Willoughby’s assets, except what was described at our meeting her© three months ago.” Richard and Imogene tx*embled with eagerness. “ The paper contain* only these words: ‘Box 304, Gallatin Safe Deposit Company. Seek there my will and securities. Key. Cassia. Jason Willoughby.’ ” A stir and sigh of expectation came from those present who did not who did not already, know of what was to . come. “ One word,” gasped Barton, unable to.contain himself. “May I ask how this paper —this white hook—came into your possession ?”

Mr Mote looked at Mr Waite. “ It seems rather premature,” said that gentleman ; “ but still there is no harm in answering that question. It was brought to the executors by Mr Mr Thomas Dale yonder, who. received it at the hand of Mr. Jason Willoughby, with instructions so to deliver it on the day before a year should elapse from the date of Mr Willoughby’s death.” Richard could hardly believe his ears. “ Why, how could Dale have got access to the desk?” he pondered. “ And yet, no. It is declared he got it from Willoughby. Then he must have had it over a year. But how, then, could I have seen it P” Imogene noticed her husband’s agitation, and marvelled. “ Why should he care so much ?” she mused. “ He knows nothing either. But if the worst is to come, how often he has told me to be prepared for it, that it did not matter !” “ We therefore,” proceeded Mr Mote, “ the executors and lawyers, immediately took the proper action to obtain the documents thus described.” With that he again had recourse to his bag, and this time he drew forth the will. We need not recite in fall that momentous instrument. It is requisite only to describe its significant details. There were some bequests to old servants and to charities. There was an annuity of one thousand dollars a year to Imogene Gray. There was a like annuity for Mrs Willoughby. There was provision for debts, executors, lawyers. But the bulk of his estate —the securities at the safedeposit vault footed up over a million of dollars —was left to Willoughby’s niece Elizabeth, otherwise known as “ Bessie ” Willoughby. Richard Barton almost foamed with rage. “ You say you got this at the Gallatin Safe Deposit Company. And its date —” “ I drew the will,” said Mr Beam, complacently. “ It was executed on November 25, 1884.” Barton shuddered. He began to understand. The other will bore date three years earlier. Clearly the latter was revoked. But might not the other be a false will —a forgery ? He knew something of such things. Were all his admit plans to be frustrated thus ? Ho, no —a thousand times no ! “ Look you,” he cried ; “ there is some confusion here. You talk of rooks —white rooks. Suppose, now, there is another—just suppose, now — contradicting the testimony of this one ?” “ Mr Barton,” retorted Mr Waite, looking at him fixedly, “ your Rook is the Queen’s Rook ; this Rook is the King's /” Richard rushed to the drawer that contained the chessman. With shaking hands he flung it open and counted the pieces. It was too true, too hox*ribly true ! Both rooks were gone ! The old man, with fiendish irony, had deliberately planned, almost in his last days, to cheat and overwhelm him. But he would not give up. He would fight for time. “ It was easy to take away the rook,” he exclaimed; “ the motive is plain. Mrs Barton notoriously his favourite niece. The other, Miss Willoughby, was almost a stranger. Who will believe in this eleventh-hour testament that nobody —executors, lawyers, nobody—ever heard of before, and for whose manufacture there was so tremendous an incentive ?” “ There can be no doubt,” said Mr Beam, gently —“ there can be no doubt, Mr Richard Barton, of the validity of the will.” “ Oh, you say so, of course,” snarled Richard, “ but I say —in the interest of Mrs Barton, which I am bound to protect — I say there is a trick, a conspiracy here.” “And I advise you, Mr Ballon,” said Mr Waite, with much firmness, “ not to say so. First, because it is not true ; next, because it is dangerous to yourself.” “ Oh, if you mean to threaten,” cried the other, beginning to bully,

I can threaten too. Take notice, yon aiid you—all of you —I denounce this whole business as fraudulent. Take notice, I will dispute the will.” Mr Waite looked at Mr Mote, and Mr Mote looked at Mr Waite. Then the latter, bowed, and the former thereupon brought forth some further' papers from his back. “ These pepers,” he explained, we are instructed to use only in a certain contingency.’ They will interest you, Mr Barton. There are here, in particular, three acceptances. . Each bears the name of Jason Willoughby, but in neither case did he place it there. Do you Tmow who did, Mr Richard Barton ?” The will of Jason Willoughby, unlike some others we have heard much of, was never contested. The plans of the “ Professional ” Apartment House which the dead contemplated have been carefully drawn, the land bought, and the structure will be erected in Brooklyn in 1892-93. Mrs Richard Barton secured her divorce two years ago in Dakota. (Concluded.)