Greek Coffin Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

from time to time, then suddenly rose and without explanation left the room, the plans in his hand.
    Apathy settled again, like a palling mist.
    “Something you ought to know, Pepper.” Velie drew Pepper aside and grasped Woodruff’s arm with what he considered gentleness. Woodruff whitened. “Now, listen, Mr. Woodruff. The will’s been grabbed off by somebody. There’s got to be a reason. You say it was a new will. Well, who lost what by it?”
    “Well—”
    “On the other hand,” said Pepper thoughtfully, “I can’t see that the situation, aside from its criminal implications, is very serious. We can always establish intention of testator from your office copy of the new will, Mr. Woodruff.”
    “The hell you can,” said Woodruff. He snorted. “The hell you can. Listen.” He drew them closer to him, looking around cautiously. “We can’t establish the old man’s intention! That’s the funny part of it. Now get this. Khalkis’ old will was in force up to last Friday morning. The provisions of the old will were simple: Gilbert Sloane was to inherit the Khalkis Galleries, which includes the art-and-curio business as well as the private art-gallery. There were two trust-funds mentioned—one for Khalkis’ nephew Cheney and one for his cousin Demmy, that half-witted yokel over there. The house and personal effects were bequeathed to his sister, Mrs. Sloane. Then there were the usual things—cash bequests to Mrs. Simms and Weekes, to various employees, a detailed disposition of art-objects to museums and so on.”
    “Who was named executor?” asked Pepper.
    “James J. Knox.”
    Pepper whistled and Velie looked bored. “You mean Knox the multi-millionaire? The art-bug?”
    “That’s the one. He was Khalkis’ best customer, and I would say something of a friend, too, considering the fact that Khalkis named him executor of his estate.”
    “One hell of a friend,” said Velie. “Why wasn’t he at the funeral to-day?”
    “My dear Sergeant,” said Woodruff, opening his eyes, “don’t you read the papers? Mr. Knox is a somebody. He was notified of Khalkis’ death and intended to come to the funeral, but at the last minute he was called to Washington. This morning, in fact. Papers said it was at the personal request of the President—something to do with Federal finance.”
    “When’s he get back?” demanded Velie truculently.
    “No one seems to know.”
    “Well, that’s unimportant,” said Pepper. “Now how about the new will?”
    “The new will. Yes.” Woodruff looked very cunning. “And here is the mysterious part of it. Last Thursday night, about midnight, I got a telephone call from Khalkis. He told me to bring him on Friday morning—the next morning—the complete draft of a new will. Now get this: the new will was to be an exact duplicate of the existent will except for one change: I was to omit the name of Gilbert Sloane as beneficiary of the Khalkis Galleries and leave the space blank for the insertion of a new name.”
    “Sloane, eh?” Pepper and Velie studied the man surreptitiously. He was standing like a pouter pigeon behind Mrs. Sloane’s chair staring glassily into space, and one of his hands was trembling. “Go on, Mr. Woodruff.”
    “Well, I had the new will drawn up first thing Friday morning and chased over here with it considerably before noon. I found Khalkis alone. He was always a pretty rocky sort of codger—cold and hard and businesslike as you please—but that morning he was upset about something. Anyway, he made it plain right away that nobody, not even your humble servant, was to know the name of the new beneficiary of his Galleries. I fixed up the will in front of him so that he’d fill in the blank space conveniently—he made me cross over and stand on the other side of the room, mind you!—and then he scribbled a name, I suppose, in the space. He blotted it himself, closed the page quickly, had Miss Brett, Weekes and Mrs. Simms witness his