Whether that will had been revoked or not Mr. Truscott did not know; but, in the course of the afternoon, Lord Flintshire, whilst out driving, met the local superintendent of police, who told him that Mr. Steadman’s senior partner--a Mr. Fuelling--had made a statement to the effect that Sir Jeremiah had sent for Mr. Steadman the day before his death and given instructions for the drafting of a new will whereby the old gentleman bequeathed Appledore and everything he possessed to his beloved grandson, Hubert de Mazareen, but only on the condition that the latter did not marry the daughter or any other relative of the Earl of Flintshire. In the event of Hubert de Mazareen disregarding this condition at any future time of his life, Sir Jeremiah’s entire fortune was to devolve on Philip Baddock, sole issue of testator’s second marriage, with Adèle Desty. The draft of this will, added Mr. Fuelling, was in Mr. Steadman’s pocket ready for Sir Jeremiah’s signature on that fateful night when the unfortunate young solicitor was murdered. The draft had not been found in the murdered man’s pocket. A copy of it, however, was in Mr. Fuelling’s safe. But as this will had never been signed by the deceased the one of 1902 remained valid, and Captain Hubert de Mazareen remained unconditionally his grandfather’s sole heir. 3 Events crowded thick and fast on that day--one of the most miserable I have ever lived through. After an early tea, which my dear lady had alone in her little boudoir, she sent me down to ask Captain Hubert to come up and speak to her. He did so at once, and I went into the next room--which was Lady Molly’s bedroom--there to prepare her dress for the evening. I had, of course, discreetly closed the door of communication between the two rooms, but after the first five minutes, Lady Molly deliberately reopened it, from which I gathered that she actually wished me to know what was going on. It was then a little after four o’clock. I could hear Captain de Mazareen’s voice, low-toned and infinitely tender. He adored my dear lady, but he was a very quiet man, and it was only by the passionate tensity of his attitude when he was near her that a shrewdly observant person could guess how deeply he cared. Now, through the open door, I could see his handsome head bowed very low, so that he could better look into her upturned eyes. His arms were round her, as if he were fighting the world for the possession of her, and would never let her go again. But there were tears in her eyes. “Hubert,” she said after a while, “I want you to marry me. Will you?” “Will I?” he whispered, with an intensity of [IMAGE: images/img327.jpg CAPTION: “Philip Baddock looked defiant, and Felkin taciturn and sulky”] passionate longing which seemed to me then so unutterably pathetic that I could have sat down and had a good cry.