"To my nephew, Stephen Davenant, I will and bequeath the set of Black's sermons in twenty-nine volumes, standing on the second shelf in the library, having remarked the affection which the said Stephen Davenant bore the said volumes, and accepting his repeated assertions that his attendance upon me was wholly disinterested." An ugly flash and an evil glitter swept over Stephen's white face and eyes, and his teeth ground together maliciously. "To each and every one of my servants I bequeath the sum of one hundred pounds, such sum to be forfeited by each and every one who assumes mourning for my death, which each and every one has anxiously looked forward to. "And lastly, I will and bequeath the remainder of my property of whatsoever kind, be it money, houses, lands, or property of any description, to my only daughter and child, Eunice Davenant, the same to be held in trust for her sole use and benefit by James Hudsley. "And I hereby inform him, and the world at large, that the said Eunice Davenant is the only issue of my marriage with Caroline Hatfield; that the said marriage was celebrated in secret at the Church of Armfield, in Sussex, in June, 18--. And that the said Eunice Davenant, my daughter, is in the keeping of one Gideon Rolfe, woodman, of Warden Forest, who has reared her as his own child, and who is unacquainted with the facts of my secret marriage, and I decree and appoint James Hudsley sole guardian, trustee, and ward of the aforesaid Eunice Davenant, and at her hands I crave forgiveness for my neglect of her mother and herself. "(Signed) RALPH DAVENANT, "Hurst Leigh. "Witness--George Goodman, "Coachman, Hurst Leigh. "Martha Goodman, "Cook, Hurst Leigh." White, breathless, Stephen held the paper in his clinched hands and stared at the astounding contents. Eunice Davenant the squire's daughter. His overstrained brain refused to realize it. Old Ralph Davenant married! Married! It was impossible. _Oh, yes, that was it._ A smile, a ghastly smile shone on his face. _It was a joke_--a vile, malicious joke, worthy of the crabbed, misanthropical old man! A villainous joke, set down just to bring about litigation, and create trouble and confusion between the two young men, himself and Jack Newcombe. And yet--and the smile died away and left his face fearful and haggard--and yet that awful fury of the dying man when he knew that the will had been stolen. No, it was no jest. The marriage had taken place; there _was_ a daughter, and she was the heiress of all that immense, untold wealth, except the fifty thousand pounds left to Jack Newcombe, while he--he, Stephen Davenant, the next of kin, the man who had been working, lying, toadying for the money, was left with a set of musty sermons.