of these two in broad daylight, it would need an actor of genius, and a certain initial facial resemblance. But in the case of Alfred Inglethorp, all that is changed. His clothes, his beard, the glasses which hide his eyes—those are the salient points about his personal appearance. Now, what is the first instinct of the criminal? To divert suspicion from himself, is it not so? And how can he best do that? By throwing it on some one else. In this instance, there was a man ready to his hand. Everybody
Wells. You say ‘her last will.’ Had Mrs. Inglethorp, then, made several former wills?”
“On an average, she made a new will at least once a year,” said Mr. Wells imperturbably. “She was given to changing her mind as to her testamentary dispositions, now benefiting one, now another member of her family.”