For when all was said and done, it appeared that the old miser had not left a penny to any one of the funeral party but Jem and me, and that he had left Walnut-tree Farm to a certain Mrs.Wood, of whom nobody knew anything.
"The wording is so peculiar," the fat man said to the pale-faced man and a third who had come out with them; "'left to her as a sign of sympathy, if not an act of reparation.' He must have known whether he owed her any reparation or not, if he were in his senses." "Exactly.

If he were in his senses," said the third man.
"Where's the money ?--that's what I say," said the pale-faced man.
"Exactly, sir.

That's what _I_ say, too," said the fat man.
"There are only two fields, besides the house," said the third.

"He must have had money, and the lawyer knows of no investments of any kind, he says." "Perhaps he has left it to his cat," he added, looking very nastily at Jem and me.
"It's oddly put, too," murmured the pale-faced relation.

"The two fields, the house and furniture, and everything of every sort therein contained." And the lawyer coming up at that moment, he went slowly back into the house, looking about him as he went, as if he had lost something.
As the lawyer approached, the fat man got very red in the face.
"He was as mad as a hatter, sir," he said, "and we shall dispute the will." "I think you will be wrong," said the lawyer, blandly.