He was an old man, as thin and bent as a withy branch, with a face seamed and wrinkled, like his familiar parchment, with the like spots; his dark, keen gray eyes, which looked out from under his shaggy eyebrows, like stars in a cloudy sky. As he entered, Stephen came forward, his back to the light, his face in the shadow, and held out his hand. Hudsley took it, held it for a moment, and dropped it with a little, irritable shudder--the slim, white hand was as cold as ice--and, turning to the bed, looked anxiously at the dying man. "Great heaven!" he said, "is he dead?" A savage hope shot up in Stephen's heart, but he looked and shook his head. "No. You have been a long time coming, Mr. Hudsley." "I have, sir, thanks to your man's stupidity," said the lawyer, in an angry whisper. "He came for me in a confounded dogcart!" "The quickest vehicle to get ready," murmured Stephen. "I told him, to take the first that came to hand." "And the result," said the lawyer impatiently. "The result is that we lost half an hour on the road! Does your man drink, Mr. Stephen?" "Drink! Slummers drink!" murmured Stephen. "A most steady, respectable--I may say conscientious--man." "He may be conscientious, but he's a very bad driver. I never saw such a clumsy fellow. He drove into a ditch half a mile after we had started." "Dear, dear," murmured Stephen regretfully. "Poor Slummers. It is not his fault. He is a worthy fellow, but too sympathetic, and my uncle's illness quite upset him----" "Hush!" interrupted Mr. Hudsley, holding up his finger and bending down. "Squire, do you know me? I am Hudsley." The dying man moved his hand faintly in assent. "Yes. Have you done as I told you?" "You have told me nothing yet." "The safe!--the key!--the pillow!" said the Squire. Hudsley caught his meaning and felt under the pillow, and Stephen, as if to assist, thrust his hand under, and withdrew it with the key in his fingers. "Why--again?" came the voice, broken and impatient. "You have done it! you have burnt the first." "What is he saying?" he asked. "You have burned it; show me the other--the last; let me--touch it." Hudsley opened the safe and took the first will from the drawer. "Two, did he say?" he muttered: "there is only one here--the will;" and he came to the bed with it. "There is only one will here, of course, squire," he said, bending down and speaking slowly and distinctly. "Yes--you, you have--burned the other. Speak. I cannot see, but I can hear you." "I have burned none," said Hudsley. "Have only just come--there is only one will here." "Which?" gasped the dying man. "The will of January--Mr. Stephen----" Before they could finish, they saw, with horror, the dying man half raise himself, his face livid, his hands wildly clutching the air, his eyes, by accident, turned toward Stephen. "You--you thief!" he gasped. "Give it to me!--give--give--oh, God! Too late?--too la----"