It punished him, and it told upon him. The pallor which had come upon his face the day the will was read had settled there. The old look of composed serenity and "oiliness," as Jack called it, had gone, and in the place was a look of strained intentness, as if he were always listening, and watching, and waiting. He was a fine actor, and would have made a fortune on the boards, and he managed to suppress this look at times, but the effort of suppression was palpable; he showed that he was affecting a calmness and serenity which he did not possess. By two men, of all others, this change in him was especially noticed--by Mr. Hudsley and old Skettle. The old lawyer and his clerk were necessarily with him every day; Stephen could not move a step without them. He hated Hudsley, whose keen, steel-like eyes seemed to penetrate to his inmost heart; and he detested Skettle, whose quiet, noiseless way of moving about and watching him from under his wrinkled lids, irritated Stephen to such an extent that sometimes he felt an irresistible desire to fling something at him. But both of the men were indispensable to him at present, and he determined to wait until everything was straight before he cut all connections with them. "Once let me get matters settled," he muttered to himself over and over again, "and those two vultures shall never darken my doors again." And yet Hudsley was always scrupulously polite and civil, and Skettle always respectful. With his characteristic graveness, Mr. Hudsley went through the work systematically and machine-like. But Stephen noticed when he came to announce some fresh edition to the great Davenant property, he never even uttered a formal congratulation, or seemed pleased and gratified. One day Stephen, nettled beyond his usual caution, said: "You must be tired of all this, Mr. Hudsley. I notice that it seems to annoy you." And the old lawyer had looked up with grim impassibility. "You are mistaken, Mr. Stephen. I am never tired, and I am never annoyed." "At least you must be surprised," said Stephen; "you had no idea that my uncle had left so much." "No, I am not even surprised," retorted Mr. Hudsley, if his calm reply could be called a retort. "I have lived too long to be surprised by anything." And there was something in his keen, icy look which silenced Stephen, and made him bend over his papers suddenly. Others noticed the change which had come over the once sleek, smooth-spoken young man. It got to be remarked that he rarely left the Hurst grounds, and that what exercise he took was on the terrace in front of the library, or on the lawn below it. It was said that he paced up and down this lawn for hours. It was said, too, that he rarely addressed a servant in or out of the house. All the orders came through the valet Slummers.