Theobald Scripps who will do the reading," whispered the little old man.
"And who is he?" I demanded.
"He's the family lawyer. You must listen as he reads that will, but you must never speak—never, at least, above a whisper. When he finishes you must say 'Yes, that is what I wanted.' You must whisper that. We want the others to hear you say it, for it's our duty to convince those others that the legality of this will can never be attacked. They must see you sign it!"
"And they'll believe I'm Clarissa Rhinelander Bartlett?"
"They can't believe anything else! They've got to believe that you are Clarissa Bartlett. They believe it now, and nothing will happen to shake that belief. They know you're not long for this world, that you're about to pass"
"Hey!" I cut in. "Don't harp on that any more or you'll sure give me the willies!"
For just a moment the little old scoundrel looked puzzled. It was plain that he didn't know what the "willies" were.
"Then, when you've stated that the will is satisfactory," he went on, "I want you to whisper: "I'd like Aunt Agatha Widdemer as a subscribing wit-
