"I can relieve your mind about that," he said. "The will is not to be read in the house. Mr. Minute's lawyers have arranged for the reading at their offices in Lincoln's Inn Fields. I have the address here somewhere." He fumbled in his pocket and took out a card. "Power, Commons & Co.," he read, "194 Lincoln's Inn Fields. I will meet you there at three o'clock." He rumpled his untidy hair with an embarrassed laugh. "I seem to have drifted into the position of guardian to you, young lady," he said. "I can't say that it is an unpleasant task, although it is a great responsibility." "You have been splendid, Mr. Mann," she said warmly, "and I shall never forget all you have done for me. Somehow I feel that Frank will get off; and I hope--I pray that it will not be at Jasper's expense." He looked at her in surprise and disappointment. "I thought--" he stopped. "You thought I was engaged to Frank, and so I am," she said, with heightened color. "But Jasper is--I hardly know how to put it." "I see," said Mr. Mann, though, if the truth be told, he saw nothing which enlightened him. Punctually at three o'clock the next afternoon, they walked up the steps of the lawyers' office together. Jasper Cole was already there, and to Mr. Mann's surprise so also was Inspector Nash, who explained his presence in a few words. "There may be something in the will which will open a new viewpoint," he said. Mr. Power, the solicitor, an elderly man, inclined to rotundity, was introduced, and, taking his position before the fireplace, opened the proceedings with an expression of regret as to the circumstances which had brought them together. "The will of my late client," he said, "was not drawn up by me. It is written in Mr. Minute's handwriting, and revokes the only other will, one which was prepared some four years ago and which made provisions rather different to those in the present instrument. This will"--he took a single sheet of paper out of an envelope--"was made last year and was witnessed by Thomas Wellington Crawley"--he adjusted his pince-nez and examined the signature--"late trooper of the Matabeleland mounted police, and by George Warrell, who was Mr. Minute's butler at the time. Warrell died in the Eastbourne hospital in the spring of this year." There was a deep silence. Saul Arthur Mann's face was eagerly thrust forward, his head turned slightly to one side. Inspector Nash showed an unusual amount of interest. Both men had the same thought--a new will, witnessed by two people, one of whom was dead, and the other a fugitive from justice; what did this will contain? It was the briefest of documents. To his ward he left the sum of two hundred thousand pounds, "a provision which was also made in the previous will, I might add," said the lawyer, and to this he added all his shares in the Gwelo Deep. "To his nephew, Francis Merrill, he left twenty thousand pounds." The lawyer paused and looked round the little circle, and then continued: