It was too late. Before the nurse and Jack could rush into the room, horrified by the shriek which rang from Stephen's white lips, old Ralph Davenant had fallen back dead! CHAPTER VII. Half an hour afterward Stephen Davenant passed down the stairs on tiptoe, though the tramp of an armed host could not disturb old Ralph Davenant now--passed down with his hand pressed against his breast pocket, in which lay the stolen will. Had the sheet of blue foolscap been composed of red-hot iron instead of paper, Stephen could not have felt its presence more distinctly and uncomfortably; it seemed to burn right through his clothes and scorch his heart; he could almost fancy, in his overstrained state, that it could be seen through his coat. He paused a moment outside the library door, one white hand fingering his pale lips, the other vainly striving to keep away from his breast pocket, and listened to the tramp, tramp of Jack as he walked up and down the room. Any other face would have been more endurable than Jack's, with its fiercely frank gaze and outspoken contempt. At last he opened the door and entered, his handkerchief in his hand. Jack stopped and looked at him. "I have been waiting for you," he said. "My poor uncle!" Jack looked at him with keen scrutiny, mingled with unconcealed scorn. "I have been waiting for you, in case you wished to say anything before I went." "What?" murmured Stephen, with admirably feigned surprise and regret. "You will not go, my dear Jack! not to-night." "Yes, to-night," said Jack quietly. "I couldn't stop in the house--I shall go to the inn." "But----" "No, thanks!" said Jack, cutting him short. "Oh, do not thank me," murmured Stephen, meekly. "I may have no right to offer you hospitality, the house may be yours." "Well, I think you could give a pretty good guess on that point," said Jack, bluntly; "but let that pass. I am going to the 'Bush.' If you or Mr. Hudsley want me--where is Hudsley?" he broke off to inquire. "Mr. Hudsley is up-stairs sealing up the safe and things," said Stephen humbly. "He wished me to assist him, but I had rather that he should do it alone--perhaps you would go through the house with him?" Jack shook his head. "As you please," murmured Stephen, with a resigned sigh. "Mr. Hudsley is quite sufficient; he knows where everything of importance is kept. You will have some refreshments after your journey, my dear Jack?" "No, thanks," said Jack; "I want nothing--I couldn't eat anything. I'll go now." "Are you going, Mr. Newcombe?" said Mr. Hudsley, entering and looking from one to the other keenly. "I am going to the 'Bush;' I shall stay there in case I am wanted." "The funeral had better be fixed for Saturday. You and Mr. Stephen will be the chief mourners." Then he turned to Stephen. "I have sealed up most of the things. Is there anything you can suggest?"