"There won't be one long either, I think," replied the other farmer. "The father is gone, and the son won't be long before he follows, and then none will be left." "He's a promising lad, too," said the other farmer, "and seems as if he had got some fresh blood in his veins; for he's frank and free, and though somewhat quick, is good-humoured, too. It's a pity he should be lost, he might have mended the matter. But do you think they'll really hang him, Master Jobson!" "As sure as I'm alive," replied the other farmer, "there's no hope else." "They sha'n't!" muttered a voice close by them, but the farmers, without noticing, went on. "There can be no doubt you see that he killed him," continued the yeoman who had last spoke. "That he didn't," said the same voice. "What are you sitting cockering there about old Smithson?" said the other farmer, attracted by the noise, though to say the truth, he was himself full ten years older than the fisherman whom he addressed. "Come away, Master Jobson, the old fool's half crazy, I believe;" and so saying, they walked away to their horses, which were tied at the churchyard gate, and proceeded on their road homeward. We shall not follow them, but turn at once to the library at Harbury Park, where some forty people were assembled, comprising the lawyers of the late Sir Francis Tyrrell, who had come down from London, for the purpose of aiding in the examination of the deceased gentleman's papers. Lady Raymond had declined to be present; but had deputed, upon her part, the young lawyer, Everard Morrison, to witness the opening of the will; a proceeding which was declared very extraordinary by several persons, as it was well known that she had not seen the young lawyer for years, and had only known him as a schoolboy companion of her son. The first place that was opened was a strong iron chest, which stood under one of the bookcases in the library. Nothing, however, was found in it, but a considerable sum of money, some keys, some cases, and the title-deeds of a small farm which Sir Francis had lately bought. "As far as I remember," said the eldest of the two lawyers, "when I drew the will of the late Sir Francis Tyrrell, in the year of our Lord, one thousand seven hundred and ---- he put it, with a number of other valuable papers, into one of the drawers of this library table. Butler, where is the key, do you know?" "He generally put the key in the strong box, Sir," replied the butler. "It's a patent key, and I think this is it; but I'm not quite sure." "If it be in the strong box, and be a patent key," said the lawyer, "that must be the key; for in the box there is no other patent key."