Michael raised himself on his elbow. "Have you got it?" he asked. "Yes," said Durham, producing the document. "Miss Plantagenet, will you please call up your maid to witness it?" While the old lady rang the bell and Michael read the will, the lawyer looked closely at the invalid. He was wonderfully like Bernard, and but that Durham knew that the real Gore was in another place he might have been deceived. Michael was clever enough to feign illness as an excuse for talking little, as he evidently dreaded to say much lest Alice or Durham should question his identity. The whole deception was cleverly carried out. Michael even attempted to account for any difference in his signature. "I feel so weak I can't write as firmly as I used to," he said, when the maid entered the room. "So you must not be surprised if my signature is unlike my usual one." "If it is as good as the writing in your letter, I shan't complain," said Durham, wheeling a small table near to the bed. Michael looked at him sharply, and seemed relieved by this remark. He evidently thought that all was well and safe, and heard Durham read the will with closed eyes. Then, raising himself on his elbow, he signed his name with apparent difficulty. It was wonderfully like the signature of Bernard. Miss Plantagenet and Maria appended their signatures as witnesses. Then Durham put the will into an envelope and prepared to go down. Michael stopped him. "Mark," he said, using the name Bernard usually called the lawyer by, "don't you think I am looking better?" "I think you are very ill," said Durham, gently. "But you don't think I'll die?" "I hope not. With nursing you may get better." Michael's face assumed an expression of terror. "I won't die," he moaned, sinking back. "I want to get well and enjoy myself." "Hush! hush!" said Miss Berengaria, folding the clothes round him, "no more of this unhealthy talk. You will get well." With Durham they left the room while Maria remained to attend on the patient. "Well," said Durham, in a low voice, "you see he expects to get well, now that he has signed the will. I daresay he will disappear. The body of Bernard will be found, and Michael will share the estate with Beryl." "I don't think so," said Miss Plantagenet, grimly. "Beryl will now murder this poor reptile, and take all the money to himself." "I fear his expectations will be disappointed," said the lawyer, dryly. CHAPTER XX A CONFESSION