The first document which Derrick produced and spread upon the table was the Père Latour's certificate of the marriage; the second was an undoubted will, duly stamped and signed, wherein the testator, Richard Pencarrow Trevelyan, Lord Lamorna, of Rhoscadzhel, in the Duchy of Cornwall, left all he possessed to Constance Devereaux, his wife, for the term of her life, and after her death to their two children absolutely. The cunning and avaricious eyes of Sharkley seemed to devour the documents, and his trembling fingers indicated the eagerness of his heart to possess them, as he saw that beyond all uncertainty they were genuine, authentic, and of vast legal value to the son and daughter of his late unhappy client; nor were they of less worth to their opponent, if their existence could be terminated, _ere it was known_. Here was a means of triumph over the Messrs. Gorbelly and Culverhole--the solicitors of Downie Trevelyan, the present titular lord--who, as more respectable practitioners than Sharkley, had ever treated him with undisguised contempt. Frequently his long lean fingers approached the papers, which were faded and yellow in aspect, having been stained by saltwater in the shipwreck; but Derrick Braddon, aware of the man he had to deal with, had taken from his pocket a large clasp knife, with which he usually cut his tobacco, and which had been of much and varied service to him in his recent wanderings; and with the point of this suggestive instrument he indicated the dates and so forth, while its production seemed to hint that any attempt to appropriate either the certificate or the will might be attended by an unpleasant sequel; for old as he was, Braddon would have given a stronger antagonist than the village lawyer "a Cornish hug," that might have been little to his taste. When Sharkley had perused the papers which he was not permitted to touch, Braddon deliberately replaced them in their case and carefully stowed the latter in his inner pocket, the cat-like eyes of the attorney watching all his motions, while a kind of sigh seemed to escape him. He drained his gin and water to the last drop and then said,-- "No doubt, Mr. Braddon, these papers are of great value; but what do you mean to do with them?" "Keep them for young Denzil. Once they are safe in his hands, he'll march in and take possession with colours flying." Sharkley smiled at the old soldier's idea of the mode of succeeding to a title and heritage; but, as the storm had not yet passed away, and no "return fly" had yet been announced, he resolved to improve the occasion, by worming himself into Derrick's confidence, and drawing all the information from him that he could win. "But if your master was drowned, as you say he was, how came these important documents into your possession?" "Drowned as _I say_ he was! Do you doubt me?" "Nay, nay; you misunderstand."