“I’m glad you’ve come; I want to ask you a favor—a dying man’s last request. You’re an honest man (N. B.—People intending to build will please make a note of this.—J. R.), I am sure, and I want you to help me do justice. You have seen my wife; she can be a tiger when she wants to. She married me for money; she thinks the will I made some time ago, leaving everything to her, is my last. But it is not. I’ve deceived her, for the sake of peace. I made one since, leaving the bulk of my property to Helen; it came to me through her dear mother. I know nobody to trust it with. Mrs. Markson can wrap almost any one around her finger when she tries, and——” His breath began to fail, and the entrance of his wife did not seem to strengthen him any; but he finally regained it, and continued: “She will try it with _you;_ but you are cool as well as honest, I believe. I meant to tell Helen where the will was the day after I put it there; but she was so young—it seemed dreadful to let her know how cowardly her father was—how he feared her. Get it—get a good lawyer—see she has her rights. I put it—no one could suspect where—I put it— in—the——” His breath failed him entirely, and he fixed his eyes on mine with an agonized expression which makes me shiver whenever I think of it. Suddenly his strange operation with that sill, of which I had not thought for a long time, came into my mind, and I whispered, quickly: “In the sill of the house?” His expression instantly changed to a very happy one, and yet he looked wonderstruck, which was natural enough. “I saw you put it there,” said I. “But,” I continued, fearing the dying man might suspect me of spying, and so fear he had mistaken my character—“but I did not mean to——I was on the ground when you came there that evening; and when I saw what you were doing, I could not move for fear of disturbing you. I know where to find it, and I can swear you put it there.” Markson closed his eyes, and never opened them again; and his last act, before going out of the world, was to give my hand a squeeze, which, under the circumstances, I could not help believing was an honest one. As his hand relaxed, I felt that I had better give place to those who had a right to it, so I quietly retired. Helen fell on her knees by his bedside, but Mrs. Markson followed me out of the room. “Mr. Raines,” said she, with a very pleasant smile for a woman widowed but a moment before, “what did my dear husband want?” Now, I am an honest man and a Church-member—and I was one then, and believed in truth and straightforwardness just as much as I do now—but, somehow, when such a person speaks to me, I feel as if I were all of a sudden a velvet-pawed cat myself. So I answered, with the straightest of faces: “Only to see to one of the sills of the house, ma’am, and he made me solemnly swear to do it right away. He was an extraordinary man, ma’am, to think of the good of his family up to the last moment.”