Semple, however, did not come in; and after talking in a desultory way with Laura for some little time, Alec rose to go. ‘By the way,’ he exclaimed suddenly, ‘_you_ read the will before it was signed; at least, you peeped into it, you remember. Was it not five _hundred_ thousand----?’ ‘Oh, Alec!’ exclaimed Laura, clasping her hands upon her breast; ‘don’t remind me of that! You _said_ you would never mention it!’ ‘I never have mentioned it to a third person, and I never will,’ said Alec. ‘But I need not ask you how the will read. I have seen it myself.’ ‘I did not read it--not that part of it, at least,’ exclaimed Laura, in some confusion. ‘I was only anxious to see what I should have for myself. I had no time to read it. I had hardly time to peep into it. It is cruel, cruel of you to remind me of such a thing!’ ‘Don’t say that, Laura,’ said Alec gently. ‘Don’t cry. Indeed I did not mean to wound you. I only thought that as you had seen the will you might remember----But it was stupid of me to ask the question, for there is no doubt what the will says. I think I am getting a little bewildered with it all. Last night, when Beattie--that is Mr. Hatchett’s managing clerk, you know--told me of what I had done, I felt as if I had been literally bewitched. I could have sworn the will was all right. But never mind. Good-night; and I hope you will forgive me for so thoughtlessly causing you pain.’ So Laura, smiling through her tears, graciously gave him her hand and forgave him; and Alec went away. As soon as the hall-door had closed behind him, she threw herself on the sofa and wept the bitterest tears she had ever known. Tired out in mind and body, Alec arrived at his lodgings. On the table lay a piece of blue paper, neatly folded in two. It was a summons for him to appear at the Bow Street Police Court at ten o’clock on the following morning to answer charges of altering a will, and of attempting to obtain money by false pretences. He hardly heard the voice of the housemaid saying, ‘The man told me to give it to you as soon as ever you come in, sir. And please, sir,’ the girl added confidentially, for Alec had found favour in her eyes, ‘I think he’s not gone far away,’ and she nodded in the direction of the street. Alec went to the window, and, shading his eyes with his hand, looked out into the darkness. A burly fellow in plain clothes was loitering at the opposite corner. The house was evidently watched; and the hot blood rushed to the young man’s cheek, as he turned away from the window. ‘Thank you, Martha. That will do,’ he said quietly. That night Alec felt as though the prison door had already closed behind him. CHAPTER XXIX. AT THE POLICE COURT.