‘Listen here, guv’nor, and you, too, missus, now, ’cos I’m agoing to make my will. I carn’t write it, so I say it. There’s jewels and things in this here box as I’ve kept by for years, ’cos they was proputty and easy to carry about. Some o’ these here walyables I should like given to a church or something—some place as’ud be likely to do good with’em. I carn’t give’em to the gal, ’cos why, ‘cos they ain’t clean. There’s that on’em as makes’em not fit for my gal’s gal to have.’ He opened the box and drew out a beautiful diamond ornament. George started back in astonishment. ‘Why, Heckett,’ he exclaimed, ‘where did you get that from? They’re my mother’s jewels!’ ‘What!’ cried Josh, his white face flushing. ‘Why o’ course they are! I forgot. These here things are what I got at the Hall.’ ‘Good Heavens, man!’ said George, ‘why didn’t you tell me you had them? They’re all conclusive evidence of my innocence of that monstrous crime of which I was suspected.’ ‘Don’t talk so quick,’ said Heckett, ‘don’t talk so quick, guv’nor. I’m weak, and I carn’t think in a hurry. Yes—yes—these are all yours. No church won’t have’em. I can give ‘em back to you. It’ll be a sin off my soul, won’t it?’ George had taken the box from the old burglar’s trembling hands, while Bess and Gertie looked on, astonished spectators of the scene. ‘These are the jewels,’ cried George, lifting them to the light, ‘that my poor father prized and never would part with! Often have I seen him gazing at them and whispering my mother’s name.’ Suddenly from the things in the box George drew a faded sheet of paper, and looked at it steadfastly. ‘It’s my father’s handwriting,’ he said softly, placing it to his lips. ‘Poor old dad! poor old dad!’ Gently he unfolded the writing and read it from beginning to end; then he lifted his eyes, streaming with tears, and said: ‘Thank God! thank God! he forgave me!’ George Heritage had read the codicil by which his father had revoked the will which left his property to Ruth Adrian, and had given everything once more to his beloved son. For years it had lain concealed among the old burglar’s treasures, mixed up with the contents of the box stolen from the Hall, and thrust away together by the thief in a secure hiding place. Josh Heckett little knew the value of the bit of paper that had kept the stolen jewels company, to see the light when on his death-bed he wished to make reparation for the past. ‘Heckett!’ exclaimed George excitedly, holding the paper up; ‘there is the band of Providence in this! You have done much evil in your long life, I fear; but now, lying here near your end, God has made you the instrument of His sovereign justice. You have united the husband and wife whom you helped to separate—you have restored an honest man his good name, and a disinherited son his rightful fortune!’ ‘Have I done all that?’ exclaimed Josh, sinking back on his pillows exhausted. ‘Lord, Lord, only to think on it!’