“Certainly, sir.” Nurse Allen turned a mystified gaze on her employer as she walked toward the door. “I’ll be in my room if you want me. The day nurse is with Mrs. Lawrence now.” The Admiral heaved an impatient sigh as the door closed behind her, and seating himself at his desk turned his attention to several sheets of manuscript, but they failed to hold his interest. A soft knock at the library door interrupted him, and he looked up with an air of relief. “Come in,” he called. “Oh, good morning, Marjorie,” as a girl appeared in the doorway. “Aren’t you late this morning?” “I was detained,” explained Marjorie Langdon, glancing in some embarrassment at the Admiral; she had not expected to find him at his desk. “How is Mrs. Lawrence?” “About the same,” a deep sigh accompanied the words. “Dr. McLane holds out little hope of her recovery. She may live a month, or----” his gesture of despair completed the sentence. “I am grieved to hear it,” Marjorie looked at the Admiral much distressed. “Is there anything I can do for Mrs. Lawrence?” “Thank you, I am afraid not,” he replied, carefully turning his back to the light. He did not wish even his confidential secretary to read the anxiety and sorrow written so plainly on his haggard face. His vigils in the sick-room were breaking down his usually rigid self-control. “Is there any mail for me?” “Yes, sir; I found it on the hall table. There are a number of notes inquiring about your wife, and a letter from your publisher.” Marjorie left her typewriter desk and approached the Admiral, letters in hand. “Do you wish to dictate the answers?” “Not just now.” The Admiral took the neatly assorted letters from her and without examining their contents, tossed them down on his flat-top desk. “There is a matter of importance”--he stopped and cleared his throat--“you recall typewriting a codicil to my wife’s will?” “Perfectly,” put in Marjorie, as the Admiral paused again. “You made a carbon copy?” “Yes, sir.” “Why?” “Because your lawyer, Mr. Alvord, thought that Mrs. Lawrence, through weakness, might spoil her signature on the first sheet, and he wished to have a second copy at hand if it should be needed.” “Do you recall what transpired after the signing of the codicil?” “Very distinctly,” replied Marjorie, her surprise at the continued questioning showing in her manner. “After the witnesses signed the document, Mr. Alvord returned here to collect his papers. Just as he was leaving you came in and asked him to leave the signed codicil.” “Quite right,” broke in the Admiral. “Mrs. Lawrence wished it left here, in order to read it again when she felt stronger. Before returning to my wife, I requested you to put the codicil in my safe....” “I carried out your instructions,” declared Marjorie, her heart beating faster with a nameless dread. “By placing the _unsigned_ carbon copy of the codicil in the safe--” an ironical smile twisted the Admiral’s lips. “You improved on my instructions.”