At length he raised the hasp, and threw back the lid. The first thing that met his eye was a document labeled, “_Will of Robert Dale_,” with the date, showing that it had been made only a few years previous to the man’s death. With a slight shiver of repugnance, Colonel Mapleson laid it unopened on the desk. Underneath he found several bank-books and certificates, all in Robert Dale’s name. Then, to his astonishment, he found a lady’s kid glove that once had been white; a handkerchief, fine and sheer, edged with soft lace, and marked with the initials, “N. D.,” worked in with hair. A little package, containing a few faded flowers, lay at the bottom of the trunk, and the secret of Robert Dale’s hermit life, and of the disposal of his property, was a secret no longer. An examination of the bank-books and certificates revealed the fact that many thousands of dollars would fall to Robert Dale’s heir or heirs, whoever they might be, and that point doubtless the will would settle. Colonel Mapleson replaced the contents of the trunk just as he had found them, until he came to the will, which he held irresolutely in his hands for a long time, and apparently absorbed in thought. “_Somebody_ has to know first or last,” he at length muttered, with a long-drawn sigh, but, he shivered with a sort of nervous dread as he unfolded the document, which was not sealed, and began to read it. It was very brief and comprehensive, bequeathing all that the testator possessed, unreservedly, to “Annie Dale and her heirs forever,” and naming as his executor a certain man residing in Richmond—Richard Douglas, to whom alone had been confided the secret of the concealment of the will and other papers. “Ah!” said Colonel Mapleson, “this accounts for their never having been discovered before. Richard Douglas was very ill at the time of Robert Dale’s death, and was himself buried only a week later.” There was a codicil to the will, mentioning some later deposits which had been made in the name of Annie Dale, “certificates of which would be found beneath a movable panel in one end of the writer’s desk, there being no room for them in the trunk with the others.” Colonel Mapleson looked greatly disturbed when he finished reading the document. “It would have been better for me had a mountain fallen upon me, than the duty which this discovery imposes,” he groaned, as he laid it back in its place and closed the trunk. “I must either do it, or commit a crime by withholding a fortune from the lawful heir.” He fell into a profound reverie, which lasted until the sun went down and the light began to grow dim and the air chill within that lonely dwelling. An impatient and prolonged whinny from his horse at length aroused him from his painful musings, when he arose, and, taking the trunk with him, he left the house, brought forth his horse from his long fast, and started on his homeward way.