That was all.
As a last resource, the lawyer suggested that Mr. Davies should make a
will.
"I do not think it necessary," was the slow and measured answer. "The
property has come to me by chance. If I die, it may as well go to
somebody else in the same way."
The lawyer stared. "Very well," he said; "it is against my advice, but
you must please yourself. Do you want any money?"
Owen thought for a moment. "Yes," he said, "I think I should like
to have ten pounds. They are building a theatre there, and I want to
subscribe to it."
The lawyer gave him the ten pounds without a word; he was struck
speechless, and in this condition he remained for some minutes after
the door had closed behind his client. Then he sprung up with a single
ejaculation, "Mad, mad! like his great uncle!"
But Owen Davies was not in the least mad, at any rate not then; he was
only a creature of habit. In due course, his agreement fulfilled, he
sailed his brig home from the West Indies (for the captain was drowned
in a gale). Then he took a second-class ticket to Bryngelly, where he
had never been in his life before, and asked his way to the Castle.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82