Outwardly he appeared
unmoved. Inwardly he was a riot of bewilderment, incapable of
speech. He stared at Jerry dumbly.
'We've got the will in the old oak chest,' went on Jerry Nichols.
'I won't show it to you, partly because the governor has got the
key and he would have a fit if he knew that I was giving you early
information like this, and partly because you wouldn't understand
it. It is full of "whereases" and "peradventures" and "heretofores"
and similar swank, and there aren't any stops in it. It takes the legal
mind, like mine, to tackle wills. What it says, when you've peeled
off a few of the long words which they put in to make it more
interesting, is that old Nutcombe leaves you the money because
you are the only man who ever did him a disinterested kindness--and
what I want to get out of you is, what was the disinterested kindness?
Because I'm going straight out to do it to every elderly, rich-looking
man I can find till I pick a winner.'
Lord Dawlish found speech.
'Jerry, is this really true?'
'Gospel.'
'You aren't pulling my leg?'
'Pulling your leg? Of course I'm not pulling your leg. What do you
take me for? I'm a dry, hard-headed lawyer. The firm of Nichols,
Nichols, Nichols, and Nichols doesn't go about pulling people's
legs!'
'Good Lord!'
'It appears from the will that you worked this disinterested gag,
whatever it was, at Marvis Bay no longer ago than last year.
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