“I follow my direction,” said the lawyer, “and break this seal. The contents of the document are for your ear, but they are addressed to me. I ask your attention while I make them known to you.” He shifted so as to secure a full light, knitted his brow, and, without pause or comment, read out in a brassy legal voice the lines before him:-- “To my honoured friend, Mr. James Creel, of Gray’s Inn, I have committed, to hold in trust for certain purposes, the estate of ‘Delsrop,’ in the county of Hampshire; whereof are dwelling-house and messuage, ninety-four acres, together with two farms held on long leases, the which it is not my desire to particularize in this the present connection. But rather to state clearly that in event of the bankruptcy at any time after my death of my only son, Robert (which calamity I, considering the bent of his nature, do sorrowfully foresee), and in no other event, the said estate is to be handed over to him, to work to a profit if he will, and so redeem the past; but on the condition that from that time being he shall forego his honourable title and know himself and be known as Robert Tuke, which name of Tuke hath his mother borne before him to her maiden honour and renown. And this I state clearly, that he may take or reject without further question, knowing the estate to be mine to give, and else seeking to know nothing. And I offer it, a last chance of redemption, that he, sloughing all that foulness of the past with his dishonoured name may turn the fruits of evil to the account of good.” In the minute of amazed silence, during which the listener sought to ponder the import of this astonishing message, Mr. Creel refolded the paper, returned it to the packet, and, sitting down again, tapped and scraped his chin with the latter in a dry manner of expectancy. “Well?” he said at length. Sir Robert tilted himself to his feet, and stood rumpling his hair. “I am at sea!” he cried, in a lost voice. “What does it all mean? I never heard of this estate; nor, I protest, did the executors. How did it come to him, and when?” “That I may answer you. It was in the year ’79--not many months before his death.” “And from whom?” The lawyer shook his head grimly. “Ah!” said the baronet. “You love a secret, of course. Am I never to know more than this?” “Sir, you understand the conditions. You are to take or reject.” “A messuage and the rest of it? And where is the working capital?” “These many years I have nursed the property against this contingency. It has yielded fairly, and there will be an accumulated sum to your credit.” “And if I reject?” “Then the whole reverts to me.” The young man’s eyes took a sudden softness. He was only thirty-one, and susceptible yet to impressions of unworldliness. “I fail to see your profit in the matter,” he said. “My profit,” answered the lawyer sternly, “was in a good man’s confidence.” Then he went on more gently: