"That letter is mine!" cried Mrs. Beatson, stretching out her hand. Rupert put it into his pocket. "It will go to the police if you don't hold your peace," he threatened, for strong measures were necessary in dealing with such a woman. "I agree with Mr. Carrington. Go away and say nothing about anything, not even to Mr. Mallien. Do you hear?" "What are you going to do?" "Never mind. You know what _you_ have to do." Rupert walked to the door and opened it. "Now go to bed." Mrs. Beatson tossed her head and moved toward the door. She greatly wished to continue the conversation and defend herself, but a glance at Hendle's stern face made her change her mind. Never had she seen her good-tempered master so angry and so decided. Foolishly as she had talked, the woman was well aware that her position was a critical one, therefore she refrained from making bad worse. "I'm going and I'll say nothing," she snarled; "but when you are turned out of this house----" "Please," said Rupert, nodding toward the hall. "Beast!" said Mrs. Beatson under her breath lest the servants should hear, "both of you, beasts!" and she sailed out of the room triumphantly, having secured the last word, and so soothed her angry mind. Hendle closed the door and returned to Carrington. "Take out the will and let us have a look at it," he said in a weary voice. "Won't you wait until to-morrow?" asked Carrington, glancing at him. "This row has upset you." "No. I want to see the will now. It may disappear again." Carrington took out the crumpled parchment from his pocket. "Look after it yourself, then, and you can be certain that it is safe." "All right. But let us look at it together. Move that lamp nearer." Carrington did so, and Hendle spread out the rustling sheets--three or four of them, as the will was tolerably long. It was written, as wills of the early nineteenth century usually were, on parchment in a clear, scholarly hand, the writing being excellently engrossed and excellently preserved. The parchment itself was soiled and dog-eared, blotched here and there with coffee-brown stains: but it had suffered little damage during its hundred years' imprisonment in the muniment chest. With Carrington seated beside him the Squire slowly read the faded brown writing, and gradually made himself master of the contents. When he came to the signature of the testator and the names of the two witnesses, he drew a long breath and looked at the barrister in frank dismay. "It seems quite legal," he said in a despairing voice. "Quite," agreed Carrington. "So far I can't see anything wrong." "And John Hendle by this"--Rupert struck the parchment--"leaves all his property, with the exception of sundry legacies to people now dead and buried, to Eunice Hendle, afterward Eunice Filbert, and her heirs. Yes. Leigh said as much. Frederick would have been disinherited had this will been produced in the year 1815. I wonder how it got lost." "Frederick may have----"