“That will do. We must go by the eight o’clock train, which is the next. Let me see;—it is now a quarter past five. We must leave this house by seven, in order to make sure of our train. Thus we have but an hour and three-quarters for preparation,” said Alexander. “But I have not read you all the articles yet. There is something about surgeons and attendants——” “Let all that go. It is of minor importance,” said Alexander, laying his hand upon the cord of the bell that communicated with his valet’s room. He rang loudly and repeatedly. And presently the man made his appearance, half asleep and half dressed. “Simms,” said his master, “pack my portmanteau with a change of clothes and small dressing-case. We go to Southampton by the eight o’clock train.” The man stared a little at this unexpected order, but, being a well trained servant, suppressed his surprise and hastened to obey his orders. Alexander examined his pistol-case, and, seeing that all was right, proceeded to prepare himself for his sudden journey. Francis Tredegar repaired to his own chamber for the same purpose. Half an hour passed in this manner, and then Mr. Tredegar returned, traveling-bag in hand. He found Alexander again at his writing desk. “Come here, Francis, my dear boy; I want you to witness the signing of my will,” said Alexander, looking around. “You will require two witnesses,” observed Francis Tredegar, gravely, as he approached the table. “Yes, I know! Here, Simms.” The valet came up. In the presence of his friend and his servant, Alexander signed his will. And then Francis Tredegar and John Simms signed as witnesses. “Now, Tredegar, I have named you and another one, executors of this will. But I wish you to take charge of it in case anything should happen to me.” “Oh, bosh!” said Tredegar, gaily, yet with a tremulous tone,—“these affairs seldom end fatally.” But he took the will and put it carefully in his breast pocket. “It is nearly seven o’clock now. I wonder if we could get some coffee. Go down, Simms, and see, and have it brought to this room,” said Alexander. The servant went on this errand. The master turned again to his friend. “Here, Francis,” he said, gravely, as he handed the letter he had written; “I wish you, in case of my death, to deliver this letter to its address.” “Oh, nonsense. There is going to be nothing so solemn. You may be wounded slightly, and as you are a good marksman you may wound Prince Ernest seriously. That will be all,” said Mr. Tredegar. But his voice trembled as he spoke, and his hand shook as he took charge of the letter. “Why, good Heaven, Alick! this is directed to Mrs. Alexander Lyon, Morley House, Trafalgar Square,” said Tredegar, in unbounded astonishment, as he read the address. “Yes, that is what she _calls_ herself,” said Alexander, grimly. “And so it is the lovely widow, after all, who is the cause of this hostile meeting?”