Round the merry dinner-table all was bright and cheerful, and it is no exaggeration to say the board groaned under the profuse spread. Eleanor lost no time in acquainting her husband with the strange story of her uncle’s property, and Mr Carver’s views on the subject—a view of the situation which he felt almost inclined to share after a little consideration. It was extremely likely, he thought, that Margaret Boulton would be able to throw some light on the subject; indeed, the fact of her strange rescue from her self-imposed fate pointed almost to a providential interference. It was known that she had a long conversation with Mr Morton the day he died, a circumstance which seemed to have given Miss Wakefield great uneasiness; and her strange disappearance from Eastwood directly after the funeral gave some colouring to the fact. Margaret Boulton had not risen that day owing to a severe cold caught by her exposure to the rain on the previous night; and Edgar and his wife decided, directly she did so, to question her upon the matter. It would be very strange if she could not give some clue. ‘I think, Nelly, we had better take Felix into our confidence,’ said Edgar, when the remains of dinner had disappeared in company with the grimy domestic. ‘He will be sure to be of some assistance to us; and the more brains we have the better.’ ‘Certainly, dear,’ she acquiesced; ‘he should know at once.’ ‘I think I will walk to his rooms this afternoon.’ ‘No occasion,’ said a cheerful voice at that moment. ‘Mr Felix is here very much at your service. I’ve got some good news for you; and I am sure, from your faces, you can return the compliment.’ CHAPTER V. Mr Felix was much struck by the tale he heard, and was inclined, in spite of the dictates of common-sense, to follow the Will-o’-the-wisp which grave Mr Carver had discovered. In a prosaic age, such a thing as the disappearance of a respectable Englishman’s wealth was on the face of it startling enough; and therefore, although the thread was at present extremely intangible, he felt there must be something romantic about the matter. Mr Felix, be it remembered, was a man of sense; but he was a dreamer of dreams, and a weaver of romance by profession and choice; consequently, he was inclined to pooh-pooh Edgar’s half-deprecating, half-enthusiastic view of the case. ‘I do not think you are altogether right, Seaton, in treating this affair so cavalierly,’ he said. ‘In the first place, Miss Wakefield is no relation in blood to your wife’s uncle. If the property was in her hands, I should feel myself justified in taking steps to have the existing will set aside; but so long as there is nothing worth doing battle for, it is not worth while, unless Miss Wakefield has the money, and is afraid of proceedings’——