The Cossack Cowboy. Lester S. Taube

and Mr. Poopendal and Mr. Snoddergas to regain their breath.

      “It is most generous of you, Your Grace,” sputtered Mr. Blatherbell, startled out of his usual composure. “We are most grateful.” He took a grip on himself and picked up the sheets of paper. “But to continue, Your Grace, you own this castle and its surrounding property, as I have already explained, two villages and one thousand, four hundred and twenty-three acres at Millcreek by the Pond, eleven farms consisting of three thousand, two hundred and forty-one acres at Pondmill by the Creek...”

      Paul interrupted “Never mind reading all that. Just tell me, how many villages do I own?”

      “Fourteen, Your Grace.”

      “And farms?”

      “Fifty-two, Your Grace.”

      “What else?”

      “Thirty-six houses in London, which are let, two more castles for your personal use, although slightly smaller than this one, a stud farm in Scotland, two coal mines in Wales, and four shooting lodges.” He stopped.

      “Is that all?” asked Paul

      “Yes, Your Grace. Unless, as I mentioned previously, your uncle made purchases during the past two years. We would like Your Grace’s permission to look through your uncle’s papers for other assets.”

      “How soon can we sell some property?” asked Paul, rubbing his hands together joyfully. “I’d like to do some travelling---to Madrid, the Riviera, Baden Baden.”

      “As soon as we have the grant of probate, Your Grace. I am expecting the Registrar at any minute. I took the liberty of having him come here, rather than disturb Your Grace with a visit to London.”

      The female butler knocked on the door and stepped inside. “Your Grace,” she said. “The Registrar from the Probate Registry is here, with two gentlemen from the Crown Office. Shall I have them wait in the library?”

      “No, no. Send them in, by all means.” He turned to Mr. Blatherbell. “Why would representatives of the Crown be here?”

      “I do not know, Your Grace. It may have something to do with the title. I believe there is a small annual stipend from the Crown for those who bear titles.”

      The door opened and the female butler ushered in three well-dressed, portly gentlemen. They bowed to Paul, and one stepped forward.

      “Your Grace, I am William Herbert Flimmershine, Registrar of the Probate Registry. This gentleman …” he pointed to the more portly of the other two, “… is Mr. Cupplebaum, First Secretary of Her Majesty’s Crown Estates.”

      Mr. Cupplebaum stepped forward and drew out an official-looking document. “Your Grace, The Fourteenth Duke of Wesfumbletonshire,” he intoned, “inasmuch as your uncle, His Grace, The Thirteenth Duke of Wesfumbletonshire, having died leaving a will in which his estate of fiefs, farms, villages, rental properties, mines, castles, and other below-listed properties was vested in Lord Percival Sanderson, his nephew, and whereas that same Lord Percival Sanderson having deceased before the time of death of His Grace, The Thirteenth Duke of Wesfumbletonshire, the Crown claims the last will and testament of His Grace, The Thirteenth Duke of Wesfumbletonshire, null and void, pro tempus passe, and hereby and herewith claims as valid and binding a will drawn up for His Grace, The Thirteenth Duke of Wesfumbletonshire, dated and signed two years ago and vesting Her Majesty’s Crown Estate with his fiefs, farms, villages, rental properties, mines, castles and other below-listed properties?”

      He folded the paper, and the crackle almost shattered the absolute, stricken, incredible silence of the listeners. Then Paul found his voice.

      “What does it mean?” he croaked to Mr. Blatherbell.

      “I am afraid to conjecture,” gasped Mr. Blatherbell. “Your Grace,” he added hastily.

      Mr. Snoddergas took over. “May I see the previous will and the lists of properties?” he asked softly.

      The heaviness in the air of the room was disturbed by the sound of Mr. Cupplebaum walking to the table and handing over the sheets of paper.

      Mr. Snoddergas studied the will carefully and compared the lists with those in Mr. Blatherbell’s possession before handing back the papers to Mr. Cupplebaum. “Your Grace,” he said to Paul. “It is now evident that unknown to us your uncle executed a last will and testament two years ago in which he left certain properties to the crown in the event of his demise. This document was declared null and void when your uncle drew up his last will vesting Lord Percival with his estate. But this final will, being invalid at the time of his death, due to Lord Percival’s accident, does permit his previous will and testament to be offered as your uncle’s choice of successor to his estate. However…” he turned to Mr. Cupplebaum, “…we shall challenge and seek to set aside its validity under an “intentus ad incidentus”, which stipulates that in executing a new will, be it valid or not at the time of death, His Grace not only selected a new heir but did, in fact, by his statement in his new will, intend to revoke all previous wills and testaments and to renounce his former beneficiary, which in this case is the Crown. Therefore, he died intestate and His Grace, the former Lord Paul Sanderson, is his legal heir.”

      “Bravo! Bravo!” cried Paul. “Win, lose or draw, Mr. Snoddergas, you’re a man after my own heart.”

      Mr. Snoddergas bowed his thanks.

      Mr. Cupplebaum cleared his throat. “Mr. er…”

      “Snoddergas,” said Mr. Snoddergas.

      “… Snoddergas, while I would be the first to agree with the brief you have offered regarding the legality of Lord Paul Sanderson’s claims to the titles of his uncle, I would like to put forward three points which might tend to influence any action on your part on behalf of His Grace to bring this before the Probate Registry. First, I would like to mention two properties not included on my lists.”

      “What properties are they?” asked Mr. Blatherbell.

      “His Grace’s uncle bought two small farms last year,” said Mr. Snoddergas. “They are on our lists.”

      Mr. Cupplebaum nodded. “I congratulate you, Mr. Snoddergas, on your keen observation. I wish to state that the Crown is prepared to allow all property purchased during the past two years to pass without challenge to the present Duke of Wesfumbletonshire, if…” he let the word dangle heavily before them, “. . no action is taken to contest the validity of his uncle’s previous will.”

      “That is blackmail!” snapped Mr. Blatherbell.

      “Mr. Blatherbell,” said Mr. Cupplebaum menacingly. “I strongly advise you to reconsider your ill-founded remark. I might add that the advisors to the Crown were exceedingly magnanimous in permitting this offer to be made, especially in view of my third point, Shall I continue?”

      Blatherbell merely nodded.

      “The second point,” continued Mr. Cupplebaum, “is to consider the lengthy and costly litigation to be incurred on behalf of His Grace by seeking to set aside our claim in the High Court.”

      “The reward is large enough to justify all costs,” said Mr. Blatherbell.

      “Then may I alter your opinion by introducing the third point,” said Mr. Cupplebaum, with a smug, self-satisfied, triumphant gleam in his eyes. “I will do this by asking you a number of questions, Mr. Blatherbell, Did His Grace, moments before his death, order you to draw up another will?”

      Mr. Blatherbell’s face paled and he remained silent

      “Very well,” went on Mr. Cupplebaum. “I see no need for you to answer. But, I shall continue. Was not his last wish that his entire estate - let me emphasize that again - his entire estate be left to the Crown? I should explain that we already have several signed statements to that effect. Furthermore, did not His Grace grasp a quill and attempt to sign his name to this bequest at the moment of his death? And last, but not least …” his teeth flashed in a quick,