"But I cannot sign the paper without knowing its contents," stammered the doctor. "Bah, fool! tom-cat! humbug!" snarled the old man, snatching up the paper, and trying with trembling hands to force it back into the envelope. "It's my will, I tell you. There, be off!" and he began to shuffle back again to his chair. "I'll sign," said the doctor reluctantly. Octavius took not the slightest notice, only reseated himself. "I'll sign the paper, Octy," said the doctor, in a tone of voice that seemed to prove his brother's words--that he could not afford to offend him. "You can do as you like," croaked Octavius, shuffling the envelope into the breast-pocket of his dressing-gown, where it stuck out tantalisingly before the doctor, who would have given a week's income to have known its contents. "You can do as you like, Tom--as you like." "I know that," growled the doctor, in an undertone; but the old man heard him. "There, go!" he shouted, in a harsh, cracked voice. "Don't I tell you I'll sign?" said the doctor, in a lachrymose, injured tone. The old man looked at him from beneath his hand for a few moments, with a cynical grin wrinkling up his eyes, and then, slowly leaving his seat, he took out and replaced the paper upon the table, jealously holding it down with both hands; and then the doctor signed his name just beneath the fair, clear characters of his daughter's writing, while he ended with a flourish and a ponderous "MD." "Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled Octavius, snatching the paper up hastily, and then holding it over the lamp, and afterwards to the fire to dry the ink. "MD! Ha, ha, ha! Got your diploma framed and glazed, Tom? you purring, sleek, tom-cat humbug, you!" Then, without waiting to double the will in its original folds, the old man hastily replaced it in the envelope, took the shade and globe from the lamp, an old gold signet-ring and a stick of wax from the bureau; and then with his half-palsied hand he sealed the great envelope, and stamped the sprawling, blotchy patch of wax with the crest in the ring. "There, Tom; that's done!" chuckled the old man, replacing the will in the bureau, turning the key, and dropping it on the carpet as he tried to place it in his pocket. "Now, look here, Tom," he said, taking the poker, and making a hole in the fire, "that envelope isn't to be opened till I'm gone, Tom; and I'll tell you this--you're one of the executors, and then you'll know what's in it, eh?--what's in it. Now, I won't tamper with it any more, and no one else shall." As he spoke he dropped the fine old ring into the hot pit he had prepared for its reception, and sat down, chuckling at his brother. Doctor Hardon sat down breathing heavily, with strange thoughts in his heart, as he looked upon the weak old man before him, and thought of his possessions.