Carson Drew carefully folded the document he had been reading, and after placing it in a drawer, turned to the relatives.
“That is all there is except that there is a proviso to pay all his just debts, including his funeral expenses and that what little balance is left—maybe three or four thousand dollars—goes to the Manningham Old Men’s Home. Fortunately, Josiah Crowley kept his assets in a liquid state. It will not be difficult to convert the estate into cash. For that reason I should think it would be possible to draw on your inheritances at once.”
“We’re actually cut off without a cent?” Richard Topham asked in disbelief. His face was unusually white.
“I am afraid you are,” Mr. Drew replied.
“But it can’t be,” Mr. Topham returned. “You don’t understand. I must have the money!”
“I can’t help you. I did not make the will.”
“It’s a conspiracy!” Ada cried bitterly. She wheeled upon Nancy, her face convulsed with anger. “You had something to do with this, Nancy Drew,” she said bitterly.
“Perhaps I had,” Nancy admitted pleasantly.
“We’ll break the will!” Mrs. Topham announced firmly.
“Of course you may drag the matter into court if you like,” Mr. Drew responded. “But I warn you it will be only a waste of your time and money. If you don’t wish to accept my judgment, ask your own lawyer.”
“ Mr. Drew is right,” the lawyer said promptly, without waiting for Mrs. Topham to question him.