Yet, if he was able to write and sign it, surely he was able also to read it through, to say nothing of the fact that, unless he was demented, he must have remembered what he had written.
Thus, once more, my reasoning only led me into a blind alley at the end of which was the will, regular and valid and fulfilling all the requirements that the law imposed.

Once again I had to confess myself beaten and in full agreement with Mr.Marchmont that "there was no case"; that "there was nothing in dispute." Nevertheless, I carefully fixed in the pocket file that Thorndyke had given me the copy that I had made of his notes, together with the notes on our visit to New Inn, and the few and unsatisfactory conclusions at which I had arrived; and this brought me to the end of my first morning in my new capacity.
"And how," Thorndyke asked as we sat at lunch, "has my learned friend progressed?
Does he propose that we advise Mr.Marchmont to enter a caveat ?" "I've read all the documents and boiled all the evidence down to a stiff jelly; and I am in a worse fog than ever." "There seems to be a slight mixture of metaphors in my learned friend's remarks.

But never mind the fog, Jervis.

There is a certain virtue in fog.

It serves, like a picture frame, to surround the essential with a neutral zone that separates it from the irrelevant." "That is a very profound observation, Thorndyke," I remarked ironically.
"I was just thinking so myself," he rejoined.
"And if you could contrive to explain what it means--" "Oh, but that is unreasonable.