“Barbara has nothing to do with the fact that I sent you the key of the davenport where the book was. It is now missing. Janet, it is bitterly painful to me to say so, but your endeavours to open that bureau privately have brought suspicion upon you, and I must have it opened in my presence.” “I have a full right to my own bureau.” “Of course you have; but I had these notes left in my trust. It is my duty towards your father to use every means for their recovery.” “You call it a duty to my father to shut up his discovery and keep it useless for the sake of a lot of boys who will never turn it to profit.” “Of that I am judge. My present duty is to recover it. Your conduct is such as to excite suspicion, and I therefore cannot allow you to take anything out of that bureau except in my presence, till I have satisfied myself that his memoranda are not there. I would not search your drawers in your absence, and therefore telegraphed for you.” “Thank you. Since you like to treat your daughter like a maidservant, you may go on and search my boxes,” said Janet, sulkily. “I beg your pardon, my poor child, if I am unjustly causing you this humiliation,” said Caroline humbly, as Janet sullenly flumped down into a chair without answering. She took up the keys that Janet had brought with her, and tried them one by one, where Janet had been using them. The fourth turned in the lock, and the drawer was open! “I will disarrange nothing unnecessarily,” said Caroline. “Look for yourself.” Janet would not, however, move hand, foot, or eye, while her mother put in her hand and took out what lay on the top. It was the Magnum Bonum. She held it to the light and was sure of it; but she had taken up an envelope at the same time, and her eye fell on the address as she was laying it down. It was to--“James Barnes, Esq.” And as her eye caught the pencilled words “My Will,” a strange electric thrill went through her, as she exclaimed, “What is this, Janet? How came it here?” “Oh! take it if you like,” said Janet. “I put it there to spare you worry; but if you will pursue your researches, you must take the consequences.” Caroline, thus defied, still instinctively holding Magnum Bonum close to her, drew out the contents of the envelope, and caught in the broken handwriting of the old man, the words--“Will and Testament--George Gould--Wakefield--Elvira de Menella--whole estate.” Then she saw signature, seal, witnesses--date, “April 24th, 1862.” “What is this? Where did it come from?” she asked. “I found it--in his table drawer; I saw it was not valid, so I kept it out of the way from consideration for you,” said Janet. “How do you know it was not valid?” “Oh--why--I didn’t look much, or know much about it either,” said Janet, in an alarmed voice. “I was a mere child then, you know. I saw it was only scrawled on letter-paper, and I thought it was only a rough draft, which would just make you uncomfortable.”