Not to be related to the all-powerful Geraldine was something of a disappointment, for although Gordon had little sentiment or ideality in his mental and moral system, one of his few emotional susceptibilities lay in his family pride and clannish spirit He felt for his own, and he was touched in his chief altruistic possibility in the appeal that had brought him hither. To his amazement, Mr. Keene, a second cousin whom he had seldom even seen, had named him executor of his will, without bond, and in a letter written in the last illness, reaching its destination indeed after the writer's death, had besought that Gordon would be gracious enough to act, striking a crafty note in urging the ties of consanguinity. But for this plea Gordon would have doubtless declined on the score of pressure of business of his own. There were no nearer relatives, however, and with a sense of obligation at war with a restive indisposition, Gordon had come in person to this remote region to offer the will for probate, and to take charge of the important papers and personal property of the deceased. A simple matter it would prove, he fancied. There was no great estate, and probably but few business complications. “Going home, Dr. George?” his hostess asked as the young physician made his excuses for quitting the table before the conclusion of the meal. “Dr. Bigdon is not staying in the house, then?” Gordon queried as the door closed upon him, addressing the remark to the old lady by way of politely including her in the conversation. “No, he is a neighbor of ours--a close and constant friend to us.” Mrs. Brinn spoke as with grateful appreciation. Mrs. Keene took a different view. “He just hangs about here on Geraldine's account,” she said. “He happens to be here today because last night she took a notion that he must go all the way to Bogue Holauba to meet you, if the train should stop at the station above; but he was called off to attend a severe case of ptomaine poisoning.” “And did the man die?” Mrs. Brinn asked, with a sort of soft awe. “Mercy! I declare I forgot to ask him if the man died or not,” exclaimed Mrs. Keene. “But that was the reason that only a servant was sent to meet you, Mr. Gordon. The doctor looked in this morning to learn if you had arrived safely, and we made him stay to breakfast with us.” Gordon was regretting that he had let him depart so suddenly. “I thought perhaps, as he seems so familiar with the place he might show me where Mr. Keene kept his papers. I ought to have them in hand at once.” Mrs. Keene remembered to press her handkerchief to her eyes, and Gordon hastily added, “Since Dr. Big-don is gone, perhaps this lady--what is her name?--Geraldine--could save you the trouble.” “Mercy, yes!” she declared emphatically. “For I really do not know where to begin to look. Geraldine will know or guess. I'll go straight and rouse Geraldine out of bed.”