Laura hesitated. She had no idea of being a tool in the hands of anyone; and she was not sure that she should have allowed Semple’s words as to the identity of his interests and hers to pass unchallenged. Her one desire was to discover whether Semple or (as she hoped) Alec Lindsay was to be the old man’s heir. But in a moment she had decided to make herself useful, on the chance of inducing Semple to tell her something. As she wisely reflected, she could get the information which he wanted without any trouble, and either tell him what he wished to know, or hold her tongue, as circumstances might decide. She therefore whispered: ‘All right. Hush; I must go now. I hear Miss Lindsay coming down.’ Miss Mowbray proved abundantly capable of executing the commission which had been intrusted to her. She listened for the postman’s ring, and, crossing the hall apparently by chance, said to the servant who had answered the door-bell: ‘Is that letter for Mr. Lindsay?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Then you may give it to me. I am going to his room now.’ On reaching the old man’s bedroom, she closed the door softly behind her, and going up to him with swift, noiseless steps, she said: ‘Dr. Mackenzie and James have gone out, uncle; and Miss Lindsay is asleep; so I have come to you for company. Do you mind my sitting here half an hour, while nurse goes to supper? Shall I disturb you?’ ‘No, child, no. I like to see you.’ ‘I will sit by the fire, then, and be as still as a mouse. Here is a letter that the postman has just handed in. I took it from Marks as I came upstairs.’ CHAPTER XXII. ‘TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS!’ It was past eleven o’clock when Dr. Mackenzie and his companion returned from Exeter Hall; and after getting a little supper in the dining-room together, they parted for the night, Semple making sure that the minister went straight to his bedroom before he retired to his own. Hardly, however, had Dr. Mackenzie been left alone, when a tap came to his door. It was the nurse in attendance on Mr. Lindsay, who had been sent to tell the minister that the sick man was anxious to see him before he went to sleep. ‘I’ve got the draft of the will, Doctor,’ said Mr. Lindsay, as his guest entered the room. ‘I thought you would maybe like to see it; and as they want it sent back to-night, I had to send for you.’ The minister professed himself to be very willing to look over the draft, and seating himself by the fire, he read it carefully through twice. ‘It will be a disappointment to some of them, I’m thinking,’ said the old man, as the other at last laid down the paper. ‘But think of the good it will do,’ rejoined the minister. ‘What better use can we make of money, which is, after all, mere dross, than devote it to the cause of Christ?’ ‘Is the draft all right?’ asked Mr. Lindsay, after a pause. ‘Yes; it seems to be in accordance with your wishes.’