And, renewing her resolution to wait until the will was read before she committed herself irretrievably to either of the two young men, Laura proceeded to wash away the traces of tears from her face. Meanwhile Beattie had left the house, and Alec had summoned Marks and Mrs. Jackson, the cook, to their master’s room. The will was duly signed and witnessed, Dr. Mackenzie looking on with a grave face; and when all the formalities had been gone through, Mr. Lindsay put the document in its envelope, sealed it carefully with his own hand, and gave it to Alec. ‘Give it to Mr. Hatchett, my lad,’ he said. ‘He should have been here to-day himsel’--but it doesn’t matter. Tell him to lock it up in his safe till--till it’s wanted. And now I think I’ll try and get a little sleep, for I feel tired.’ Alec took the will to Mr. Hatchett, and saw it put away in his safe, before going down to the law courts. As for Dr. Mackenzie, after a final interview with Mr. Lindsay he took his leave, and returned to Glasgow by the night mail. CHAPTER XXV. MR. WILLIAM BEATTIE ACTS LIKE A CHRISTIAN. After leaving Mr. Lindsay’s house, Mr. Beattie went first of all to the Law Courts in the Strand. But he did not remain there long. He took the draft affidavit to a law stationer’s, and then, leaving instructions for Alec with the junior clerk who had been waiting in the Judge’s chambers, he left the case Walter v. Walter to take care of itself, called a hansom, and told the cabman to drive to King’s Cross. Arrived there, he dismissed the cab, and plunged into a nest of squalid, airless streets, not far from the railway terminus. After some difficulty, he found the one he was in quest of--Milton Street--and then a further search ensued for No. 76. When this, too, was found, he made some further inquiries, and, obeying the directions he obtained, made his way to the top of the house, and knocked with his umbrella at a rickety door. A faint voice bade him enter, and there, sitting by the fireplace, was the man he sought. Mr. David MacGowan did not present an attractive appearance. Unwashed, unshaven, his shabby clothes in complete disorder, his hair undressed, his eyes bloodshot, his hand trembling, he certainly looked a miserable object. The fire, which had been lighted with damp wood under an overburdening mass of coal-dust and cinders, was slowly going out, but MacGowan had not sufficient energy to try to make it burn. His miserable breakfast stood untasted on the table, upon which lay an open letter. When he saw who his visitor was, he did not say a word, but turned his face to the smouldering fire, and gazed at it moodily. Beattie, without waiting for an invitation, sat down opposite him, and began to ask him where he had put certain papers which had been in his charge, and some other questions of a like nature. MacGowan sullenly answered him, without removing his eyes from the fire.