"Nothing. We have our fruit." � WHERE THERE'S A WILL 33 "Indeed." Wolfe looked at May. "Is that correct, Miss Hawthorne?" "Certainly. I want nothing for myself." Wolfe looked at the youngest. "And you?" "What?" asked April vaguely. "I am asking, do you demand a share of your brother's estate?" "Good heavens, no." "Not that we couldn't use it," said June. "April lives at least a year ahead of her income and is in debt to her ears. May washes her own stockings. She never has anything because she gives half her salary to Varney girls who would have to leave college if she didn't. As for me, I have trouble paying the grocery bills. My husband had a good income from his private practice, but the salary of a secretary of state is pretty skimpy." "Then I think we should be able to persuade Miss Karn�" "No. Don't try it. If my brother had left us something we could certainly have used it�and I suppose we're all surprised that he didn't. But no �no haggling for it. From him direct, yes, but not by way of that woman." "If I get it, will you take it?" "Don't try. Don't tempt us. You know how it is. You're in need of money yourself." FR1;34 WHERE THERE'S A WILL "We'll see. What about your children?" "They get a hundred thousand apiece." "Is that satisfactory?" "Of course. My Lord, they're rich." "Is anything else wanted from Miss Karn for anyone at all?" "No." Wolfe looked at the lawyer. "What about it, Mr. Prescott? Have you any comments?" Prescott shook his head. "None. I'm happy to stay as well out of it as I can. I drew the will." "So you did." Wolfe frowned at him, then transferred the frown to June. "So much for that. We'll get all we can. Now what about Miss Karn?" "What about her?" "Who is she, what is she, where is she?" "I don't know much about her." June turned to the lawyer. "You tell him, Glenn." "Well . . ." Prescott rubbed his nose. "She's a young woman, a year or two short of thirty I should say--" "Wait a minute!" The interruption came from Sara Dunn, the professional fiend, as she glided up to Wolfe's desk with something in her hand. "Here, Mr. Wolfe, look at this. I brought it along because I thought it might be needed. That's her laughing, and the man with her is Uncle Noel. You can borrow it if you want to, but I'll want it back." FR1;WHERE THERE'S A WILL 35 "Where in the name of heaven," Mrs. Dunn demanded, "did you get that thing?" "Oh, I took it one day last spring when I happened to see Uncle in front of Hartlespoon's, and I knew who it must be with him. They didn't see me snap it. It's a good shot, so I had it enlarged." "You--you knew--" June was sputtering. "How did you know about that woman?" "Don't be a goof. Mom," said Sara sympathetically. "I wasn't born deaf, and I'm past twentyone. You were just my age when you wrote Affairs of a Titmouse." "Thank you very much. Miss Dunn." Wolfe put the picture under a paperweight on top of Daisy Hawthorne's card. "I'll remember to return it." He turned to the lawyer. "About Miss Karn? You know her, do you?" "Not very well," said Prescott. "That is--I've known her, in a way, for about six years. She was a stenographer in our office--my firm." "Indeed. Your personal stenographer?" "Oh, no. We have thirty or more of them--it's a large office. She was just one of them for a couple of years, and then she became the secretary of the junior partner, Mr. Davis. It was in Mr. Davis's office that Mr. Hawthorne first met her. Not long after that--" Prescott stopped, and looked uncomfortable. "But that's of no present significance. I FR1;36 WHERE THERE'S A WILL 1, wished to explain how I happened to know her. She ' left our employ about three years ago--uh--apparently at the suggestion of Mr. Hawthorne--" "Apparently?" "Well--" Prescott shrugged. "Admittedly, then. Since he himself made no attempt to be secretive about it, there is no call for caution from me." "The Hawthornes," said May sweetly, "are much too egotistic to be sneaks. *How we apples swim.' " ^ "Obviously he wasn't sneaking," Wolfe agreed, glancing at the picture under the paperweight, "when he paraded with her on Fifth Avenue." "I think I should warn you," Prescott said, "that your task will be a difficult one." "I expect it to be. To persuade anybody to turn loose of four million dollars." "I know, but I mean exceptionally difficult." Prescott shook his head doubtfully. "God knows I wish you luck, but from what I know of Miss Karn . . . it'll be a job. Ask Stauffer, he'll tell you what he thinks of it. That's why we asked him to come down here with us.'* "Stauffer?" A voice came from the left: "I'm Osric Stauffer."