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Fantasy Fan, v. 2, issue 6, whole no. 18, February 1935
Page 89
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February, 1935, THE FANTASY FAN 89 The Legacy by Kenneth B. Pritchard My friend, Frederick Brown, and I are lawyers. Lawyers often come up against strange cases; but the case that Brown had a while ago, was the oddest and by far the most weird I have ever of. Brown and I ware launching together one moon, when t he subject was broached of the peculiar things that one sometimes meets up with. "James," said Fred, "you never had anything happen to you that can compare with a certain case of mine; I'll wager on it." "Shoot," I said. "Let's have an earful. What's it all about?" I had a legacy, he began without hesitation, "a few weeks ago, that was void to all concerned unless it was signed by one man. All others involved had attached their signatures to the documents. But, Ogleman's --that was his name--was missing." "You mean the Ogleman that died a short time ago?" I broke in. "The same," Brown admonished. "I must hasten to add," he went on, "that a time limit was set, on this certain day, in which the signatures must be obtained. Ogleman was not in town. "The final limit was set for 8 P. M. For days before the last one arrived in all directions trying to contract this one man. The evening before the final day, I at last got in touch with him, and he promised to come without delay. He wired back that he would leave in the morning as he was situated in a place where transportation facilities were not the best. All I could do then, was wait. "Ten o'clock the next morning I received a telegram. Ogleman had been struck by a speeding auto. But as I read further, I realized that the man would arrive anyway. His condition I did not know, as the message had imparted no more than the two facts I've already given. "It was half past seven that evening that the missing man showed up at my client's home. He was quite a sight, I can assure you." My friend paused as though to reflect upon the unusual scene. His eyes widened for a moment in sudden horror, and then he continued in his regular manner. "I found myself looking at him as I shook his one good hand. The other arm was in a sling that had been hastily made. His head had a bandage around it, and his face was white; almost the color of several patches adhering to it. "My client shook hands with him also. 'Glad you came, Ogleman,' he said, "Everything depends on you, you know." " 'Yes,' said Ogleman as he relinquished his hand, 'I know that the legacy must be signed,' "His voice seemed strangely hollow and unnatural, and there was an
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February, 1935, THE FANTASY FAN 89 The Legacy by Kenneth B. Pritchard My friend, Frederick Brown, and I are lawyers. Lawyers often come up against strange cases; but the case that Brown had a while ago, was the oddest and by far the most weird I have ever of. Brown and I ware launching together one moon, when t he subject was broached of the peculiar things that one sometimes meets up with. "James," said Fred, "you never had anything happen to you that can compare with a certain case of mine; I'll wager on it." "Shoot," I said. "Let's have an earful. What's it all about?" I had a legacy, he began without hesitation, "a few weeks ago, that was void to all concerned unless it was signed by one man. All others involved had attached their signatures to the documents. But, Ogleman's --that was his name--was missing." "You mean the Ogleman that died a short time ago?" I broke in. "The same," Brown admonished. "I must hasten to add," he went on, "that a time limit was set, on this certain day, in which the signatures must be obtained. Ogleman was not in town. "The final limit was set for 8 P. M. For days before the last one arrived in all directions trying to contract this one man. The evening before the final day, I at last got in touch with him, and he promised to come without delay. He wired back that he would leave in the morning as he was situated in a place where transportation facilities were not the best. All I could do then, was wait. "Ten o'clock the next morning I received a telegram. Ogleman had been struck by a speeding auto. But as I read further, I realized that the man would arrive anyway. His condition I did not know, as the message had imparted no more than the two facts I've already given. "It was half past seven that evening that the missing man showed up at my client's home. He was quite a sight, I can assure you." My friend paused as though to reflect upon the unusual scene. His eyes widened for a moment in sudden horror, and then he continued in his regular manner. "I found myself looking at him as I shook his one good hand. The other arm was in a sling that had been hastily made. His head had a bandage around it, and his face was white; almost the color of several patches adhering to it. "My client shook hands with him also. 'Glad you came, Ogleman,' he said, "Everything depends on you, you know." " 'Yes,' said Ogleman as he relinquished his hand, 'I know that the legacy must be signed,' "His voice seemed strangely hollow and unnatural, and there was an
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