that we should have lunch.”
So we lunched, talking of indifferent matters while the servants were
in the room, and afterward returned to my study, where the documents
were read and expounded to me by Mr. Mellis. To cut the story short,
it seemed that my inheritance was enormous; I am afraid to state from
memory at what figure it was provisionally valued. Subject to certain
reservations, such as an injection that no part of the total, either
in land or in money, was to be alienated in favour of Mr. Atterby-Smith, a relative of Lord Ragnall whom the testatrix held in great
dislike, or any member of his family, and that, for part of the year,
I must inhabit Ragnall Castle, which might not be sold during my
lifetime, or even let. All this vast fortune was left at my absolute
disposal, both during my life and after my death. Failure to observe
these trusts might, it seemed, invalidate the will. In the event of my
renouncing the inheritance, however, Ragnall Castle, with a suitable
endowment, was to become a county hospital, and the rest of the estate
was to be divided in accordance with the list that I have mentioned—a
very admirable list, but one which excluded any society or institution
of a sectarian nature.
“Now I think that I have explained everything,” said Mr. Mellis at
length, “except a minor and rather peculiar provision as to your
acceptance of certain relics, particularly described by the testatrix
in a sealed letter which I will hand to you presently. So it only
remains for me, Mr. Quatermain, to ask you to sign a document which I
have already prepared and brought with me, to enable me to deal with
these great matters on your behalf. That is,” he added with a bow,
“should you propose to continue that confidence in our firm with which
the family of the late Lord Ragnall has honoured it for several
generations.”
While he was hunting in his bag for this paper, explaining, as he did
so, that I must be prepared to face an action brought by Mr. Atterby-Smith, who had been raging round his office “like a wild animal,”
suddenly I made up my mind.
“Don’t bother about that paper, Mr. Mellis,” I said, “because Lady
Ragnall was right in her supposition. I have no intention of accepting
this inheritance. The estate must go for division to the charities,
etcetera, set down in her list.”
The lawyer heard, and stared at me.
“In my life,” he gasped at last, “I have known mad testators and mad
heirs, but never before have I come across a case where both the
testator and the heir were mad. Perhaps, sir, you will be pleased to
explain.”
“With pleasure,” I said when I had finished lighting my pipe. “In the
first place, I am already what is called a rich man and I do not want
to be bothered with more money and property.”
“But, Mr. Quatermain,” he interrupted, “you have a son who, with such
wealth behind him, might rise to anything—yes, anything.” (This was
true, for, at that time, my boy Harry was living.)
“Yes, but, as it chances, Mr. Mellis, I have ideas upon this matter
which you may think peculiar. I do not wish my son to begin life with
enormous resources, or even the prospect of them. I wish him to fight
his own way in the world. He is going to be a doctor. When he has
succeeded in his profession and learned what it means to earn one’s
own bread, it will be time for him to come into other people’s money.
Already I have explained this to him with reference to my own, and
being a sensible youth, he agrees with me.”
“I daresay,” groaned the lawyer. “Such—well, failings—as yours, are
often hereditary.”
“Another thing is,” I went on, “that I do not wish to be bothered by a
lawsuit with Mr. Atterby-Smith. Further, I cannot bind myself to live
half the year in Ragnall Castle in a kind of ducal state. Very likely,
before all is done, I might want to return to Africa, which then I
could not do. In short,