Peggie had picked up the telegram and was reading it with knitted brow. "'Barthorpe entered caveat in Probate Registry at half-past three this afternoon,'" she slowly repeated. "But what does that mean, Mr. Tertius? Something to do with the will?" "A great deal to do with the will, I fear!" replied Mr. Tertius, lugubriously. "A caveat, my dear, is some sort of process--I'm sure I don't know whether it's given by word of mouth, or if it's a document--by which the admission to probate of a dead person's last will and testament can be stopped. In plain language," continued Mr. Tertius, "your cousin Barthorpe has been to the Probate Registry and done something to prevent Mr. Halfpenny from proving the will. It is a wicked action on his part--and, considering that he is a solicitor, and that he saw the will with his own eyes, it is, as I have previously remarked, most extraordinary!" "And all this means--what?" asked Peggie. "It means that there will be legal proceedings," groaned Mr. Tertius. "Long, tedious, most annoying and trying proceedings! Perhaps a trial--we may have to go to court and give evidence. I dread it!--I am, as I said, so used to a life of ease and freedom from anxiety that anything of this sort distresses me unspeakably. I fear I am degenerating into cowardice!" "Nonsense!" said Peggie. "It is merely that this sort of thing is disturbing. And we are not going to be afraid of Barthorpe. Barthorpe is very foolish. I meant--always have meant, ever since I heard about the will--to share with him, for there's no law against that. But if Barthorpe wants to upset the will altogether and claim everything, I shall fight him. And if I win--as I suppose I shall--I shall make him do penance pretty heavily before he's forgiven. However, that's all in the future. What I don't understand about the present is--how can that will be upset? Mr. Halfpenny says it's duly and properly executed, witnessed, and so on--how can Barthorpe object to it?" Mr. Tertius put down his cup and rose. "Your cousin, Barthorpe, my dear, is, I regret to say, a deep man," he replied. "He has some scheme in his head. This," he went on, picking up the telegram and placing it in his pocket, "this is the first step in that scheme. Well, it is perhaps a relief to know that he has taken it: we shall now know where we are and what has to be done." "Quite so," said Peggie. "But there is another matter, Mr. Tertius, which seems to be forgotten in this of the will. Pray, what is Barthorpe doing, what is anybody doing, about solving the mystery of my uncle's death? Everybody says he was murdered--who is doing anything to find the murderer?" Mr. Tertius, who had advanced as far as the door on his way out of the room, came back to Peggie's side in a fashion suggestive of deep mystery, walking on the tips of his toes and putting a finger to his lips as he drew near his chair.