Yet one word had fallen from Bergan's lips, which had startled him at the moment, and haunted him on his way homeward. The young man had seriously bidden him be thankful that he was saved from "_another_ crime." Was the phrase accidental, or did it imply some knowledge of the affair of the will? In the latter case, was it likely that Bergan would submit to the loss of what he had been encouraged, at one time, to consider his lawful inheritance, without a most rigid scrutiny and investigation of the document by which, while the property was apparently given to Carice, it was done in such a way as to place it absolutely in her husband's control. Would Bergan's forbearance toward her and hers be likely to extend as far as this? Judging by himself, and his experience of men in general, and especially of heirs, he did not hesitate to affirm that it would not. For, though Bergan had seemed to be possessed of some unusually Quixotic notions of honor, independence, and disinterestedness, during the period of their intimate association, he had doubtless seen enough of life since then, to grow more sensible. What, then, had he not to dread from his natural acuteness and legal skill, when both of these, sharpened by interest, should be brought to bear on the false will? Absorbed in these reflections, he had allowed his horse to choose his own pace, which had gradually slackened, from a gallop to a trot, and then into a walk, until, at last, he was easily overtaken by Dick Causton, in whose eyes there still shone a humorous twinkle. "Those Arlings seem to be pretty much of a piece," said he; "they both give better than they take, when it comes to blows. However, the Italians say, _Tutto s'accommoda, eccetto l'osso del collo_,--that means, Everything can be mended except the neck-bone. Yours has come safe out of this fray, but there's no telling how long 'twill stay so, if you're so ready with your pistol." "Pshaw!" exclaimed Doctor Remy, angrily. "I am in no mood for jesting. Do you suppose that Arling got any clue to our business in that den?" "How should he?--'A man doesn't look behind the door unless he has been there himself.' Besides, Mr. Arling minds his own business,--which I wish I did!--then I shouldn't have run from him like a dog caught stealing. By the way, Doctor, if the Major makes another will, which cuts the throat of this one of ours, I suppose the forgery goes for nothing?" Doctor Remy looked at him darkly. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Is he thinking of making another?" "Not that I know of," replied Dick. "But, 'At the game's end, see who wins.' There is time for him to make a dozen before he dies." "We will see about that!" muttered the doctor. "And if he does," persisted Dick, "our will goes for naught, of course,--won't even be looked at, I suppose. They'll 'trust to the label of the bag,' seeing there's no necessity for opening it!"