The Murderer is a Fox Read Online Free PDF Page A

the word 'will,' Bayard suddenly remembered. And he
confirms Judge Eli Martin's account. He'd locked the will in the top
drawer of his secretary, a drawer otherwise empty, and he was
positive he hadn't opened the drawer again. We have no reason to
doubt that statement. Wills are made out and put away. Bayard made
his out and put it away. I think we can reasonably conclude that
Bayard's will lay in that locked secretary drawer for twelve and a
half years."

    "And then all of a
sudden somebody comes along lookin' for it," cried Chief Dakin.

    "Not necessarily."

    Prosecutor Hendrix demanded:
"Now what do you mean by that, Queen?"

    "I mean that the fact
that the housebreaker took the will doesn't prove he broke into the
house to look for the will. As a matter of fact, the most
cursory consideration of the data at our disposal shows that, on the
contrary, the prowler didn't want the will as a will at all"

    The two men looked
bewildered.

    "For what conceivable
use could that will have been to anyone-anyone on earth?" Ellery
went on. "It was Bayard's will, disposing of his estate in the
event of his death and naming his wife sole legatee. But look at this
peculiar pair of circumstances: The wife is dead, and has been dead
for twelve years!—she predeceased the testator, as you lawyers
say, Hendrix. What does that do to the will?"

    "Makes it obsolete, of
course."

    "What does a testator
usually do when his will becomes obsolete by virtue of the
beneficiary's prior death and the will moreover has not provided for
a-what do you call it, Hendrix?-a contingent beneficiary?"

    "Why, if testator
doesn't want to die intestate, he'll make out a new will naming a
new, living beneficiary."

    "Exactly. Did testator
do that? The fact is—our second circumstance—he's done
better than that. He disposed of his estate before his death—gave
up all title to it during his lifetime. Bayard Fox, shortly after
he went to prison, signed legal papers turning his whole estate over
to his son, in trust until Davy should come of age.

    "So today—last
night, when that 1931 will was stolen—the will was not only
obsolete as a legal instrument, it was also meaningless . The
whole question of Bayard's estate was a settled and dead issue years
and years ago.

    "Consequently I say:
The thief could not have stolen the will for its significance as a
will—it has none. Therefore he stole it for a different reason
entirely."

    Dakin was shaking his head.
"I can't even imagine a different reason, Mr. Queen."

    "And yet, Dakin, a
different reason must exist, since the thief did steal that document.
Well, let's see. If the will was not stolen as a will, what could it have been stolen for? For the paper it was typed on?"

    Hendrix laughed. "You're
not serious."

    "No, because Judge
Martin told me the paper was the most ordinary type. If not for the
paper, then for what?"

    'The date?" asked the
Prosecutor doubtfully.

    "But the date, too, is
obviously meaningless. It was dated December something, 1931—months
before the people and the events resolved themselves into the
tragedy. But what else appears in every will?"

    "The witnesses' names?"
suggested Chief Dakin.

    "But Judge Martin told
me—and Bayard confirmed this over the phone just now—that
the witnesses were Amos Bluefield, Wrightsville Town Clerk at the
time, and Mark Doodle, a notary. Why should the thief have wanted
those witnesses' names? For some obscure reason to discover who the
witnesses had been? But then he'd merely have had to look at the
will, he wouldn't have taken the will away with him. Then did he want
a
    sample of the witnesses'
names, their autographs? He'd scarcely have to resort to
housebreaking and theft if that was his purpose. There must be
thousands of documents extant bearing the name of the Town Clerk, and
of course a notary's name would appear in hundreds of very ordinary
papers. So the witnesses can't have any significance