Jack shook him with so emphatic a movement of disgust that Stephen was in imminent danger of making a further acquaintance with the lawn. "Go indoors," he said sternly, "and leave me alone. I'd rather not sleep under the same roof with you. As for your lost paper, whatever it may be, you had better look for it in the morning, unless you want to get into further trouble," and he turned on his heel and disappeared. Stephen waited until he had got at a safe distance, and, blowing out the candle, followed down the road with stealthy footsteps, keeping a close watch on the rapidly-striding figure, and examining the road at the same time. But all to no purpose; Jack reached and entered the inn without stopping, and neither going nor returning could Stephen see anything of the missing will. Two hours afterward he crept back and staggered into the library more dead than alive, one question rankling in his disordered brain. Had Jack Newcombe found the will, and, if not, where was it? After a time the paroxysm of fear and despair passed, and left him calmer. His acute brain, overwhelmed but not crushed out, began to recover itself, and he turned the situation round and round until he had come to a plan of action. It was not a very definite one, it was rather vague, but it was the most reasonable one he could think of. There in Warden Forest, living as the daughter of a woodman, who was himself ignorant of her legitimacy, was the girl. I am sorry to say that he cursed her as he thought of her. Where was the will? Whoever had got it would no doubt come to him first to make terms, and, failing to make them, would go to the real heiress. Stephen, quick as lightning, resolved to take her away. But where? He did not much care for the present, so that it was somewhere under his eyes, or in the charge--the custody, really--of a trustworthy friend. The only really trustworthy friend whom Stephen knew was his mother. "Yes, that is it," he muttered. "Mother shall take this girl as--as--a companion. Poor mother, some great ignorant, clodhopping wench who will frighten her into a nervous fit. Poor mother!" And he smiled with a feeble, malicious pleasure. There are some men who take a delight in causing pain even to those who are devoted to them.