Once more he went up to his own room, and threw himself into his chair, completely exhausted. A fit of coughing seized him, and when that passed away, he began to cross-examine his memory for the fiftieth time. Where had he put the draft? He believed he had followed the usual course, and placed it with the other drafts of wills, which, as it happened, were kept in this room. What could have become of it? It was possible that MacGowan had inadvertently carried it downstairs with him, and that it had been left there. Or it was possible that it had fallen from the edge of his table into the waste-paper basket. He questioned the office-keeper. She did not remember seeing any paper such as he described in the waste-paper basket. It might have been there; she could not say after so many weeks. If it was in the basket, no doubt she had used it to light the fires with. She could not, in fact, say anything about it.’ He was still speaking to the woman, when he received a message to the effect that Mr. Hatchett, who had just arrived, wished to see him. Alec went at once to his employer’s room. He was the first to speak. ‘Will you be kind enough, sir, to show me my uncle’s will?’ ‘Certainly,’ said the lawyer, after a short pause. He unlocked the safe, and produced the will. With trembling hands Alec Lindsay opened it. There were the signatures, one of them slightly blotted. He remembered them well. And in another moment his eyes were riveted on the fatal words, ‘the sum of five thousand pounds.’ Again he scrutinized the signatures. Yes; they were undoubtedly genuine. This was the paper his uncle had signed. Alec folded up the document, and gave it back to Mr. Hatchett. ‘I have made a terrible blunder, sir,’ he said, in a choking voice. Then, steadying himself, he went on: ‘That bequest to the Free Church of Scotland should have been five _hundred_ thousand pounds. I cannot understand how it happened.’ ‘You examined the will with the draft, did you not?’ asked the lawyer. ‘I did. The fault is mine. But where is the draft, Mr. Hatchett?’ ‘That was just what I was going to ask you, Mr. Lindsay,’ said the solicitor, with a faint but peculiar smile. ‘I have not got it.’ ‘And I have never seen it. Where did you put it?’ ‘With the other drafts, I imagine. But I can’t swear to that. It may have dropped off my table into the waste-paper basket.’ ‘Yes,’ said the solicitor, in a doubtful tone. ‘Sir, you don’t suppose that I made away with it?’ cried Alec hotly. ‘No---- Oh dear me, no! But it is very unfortunate.’ This was exactly what the lawyer did believe, however. He might have thought it possible that the omission of the word ‘hundred’ had been a blunder--but for the disappearance of the draft.