But, apart from the effect of the letter upon Joan, what was likely to be its effect on Sir Vernon? She felt that she must show it to him; and she did not conceal from herself that she positively wanted him to see it. For she hardly concealed from herself now her desire, her hope for Ellery’s sake, that Sir Vernon would alter his will. The effect of Sir John Bunnery’s letter, she thought, would certainly be to make him very angry with both Walter Brooklyn and Carter Woodman; and she felt sure that, ill as he was, Sir Vernon, under the circumstances, would lose no time in making a new will. Woodman, indeed, had, she felt, effectively destroyed his chances of getting the money for the sake of which, if her suspicions were correct, he had probably done two men to death. Sir John Bunnery’s breach of confidence had hoisted the engineer with his own petard. Taking this letter and one or two others from the heap which lay before her, Joan went up to Sir Vernon’s room. She read him the others first, and received his instructions, or rather his permission to deal with them as she thought best. Then, without any previous comment, she read him Sir John Bunnery’s letter, watching his face as she read. The effect of the news upon him was exactly what she had expected. He was very angry, and while she was reading he interjected indignant comments. He was effectively roused; and, as soon as she had finished reading, he bade her write at once to Sir John Bunnery, not answering his question directly, but strongly advising him not to lend the money. “Write at once,” he said, “and I will sign it myself. The answer must be sent immediately.” Joan needed no second invitation. She sat down at once, and having written the answer, read it through to Sir Vernon, who signed it. She then gave it to one of the servants, with instructions that it should be posted immediately. When she came back into the room, Sir Vernon was sitting up in bed. He had a pencil in his hand, and was trying to write on the fly-leaf of a book he had taken from the table beside his bed. As Joan came to him, he sank back, exhausted by the effort. “Come here, my dear,” he said. “I shan’t rest now till I’ve made a new will, and I want you to write it for me. It can be put into proper legal form later, if there is time.” “Shall I send for Carter Woodman?” said Joan. “No, my dear. No more Carter Woodman for me just now. I shall have to find a new lawyer. But never mind that now. You write what I tell you.”