‘I have, as you requested me to do so,’ said the solicitor, producing it; ‘though, as I said at the time, it was not necessary.’ ‘Never mind,’ said his client, taking it from his hand; ‘it’s just as well out of the way. How do I know what tricks a lawyer might be up to?’ To this speech, in Mr Franklin’s best style, the solicitor made no reply; he was conscious of being ‘up to tricks’ of a rather elaborate nature. His client read the revoked will through with the same care as he had bestowed on that which superseded it. When he came to the signature, something about it seemed to arrest his attention; he turned it to the light and inspected it closely. Mr Blackford’s heart thumped uncomfortably against his ribs. ‘Curious!’ said Mr Franklin slowly; ‘I never knew myself to miss dotting an _i_ before.’ He continued to pore over the signature, making grumbling comments, in an undertone, for some seconds, during which Mr Blackford felt an almost irresistible desire to snatch the document from him and knock his venerable head against the wall. At last, to the solicitor’s intense relief, he tore it across and across and threw it upon the fire, where it was quickly destroyed. ‘That’s done with,’ said Mr Franklin. ‘The next thing is to put this one away where no one but you and I will know where to find it. I prefer to keep it here, because then I shall know it’s all safe. As to the last, it didn’t so much matter; you were the person most interested in its safety, so it was very well that you should have the custody of it. It’s different now.—D’ye see that half-dozen of books on the shelf in the recess? At this end, you’ll find a big old illustrated Prayer-book. Put the will in there, and remember the page.’ Mr Blackford took down the book, which opened of itself—ominously enough—at the service for the Burial of the Dead. He did not mention this circumstance, but put the folded paper in its place and closed and replaced the volume. ‘That’s well,’ said Mr Franklin in a weary voice. ‘I’m weaker than I thought; all this has tired me out.—Good-bye, Blackford; shake hands. You’ll do your part at the proper time; I shall tell ’em to send for you. Don’t forget—the old Prayer-book at this end of the shelf.’ ‘I won’t forget,’ replied the lawyer; ‘but I hope it may be many a long day yet before I am called on to remember.—Good-bye, sir.’ Uncle Franklin did not reply; he was lying back on his pillows with closed eyes; and so Mr Blackford left him.