‘Of course I availed myself of this invitation. I found my friend in an unusually large set of chambers, but which had the appearance of great neglect. The rooms he occupied himself were well cared for enough, though he informed me that he saw no company; but the others were used as lumber-rooms. They were filled with old books, old armour, old manuscripts, piled up on the floor in the greatest confusion. There were heaps of law documents, relating to his own affairs, which had no better treatment. I suppose my new friend saw by the expression of my face that I thought him a very eccentric personage, for he suddenly observed, “I have taken a strong fancy to you, young gentleman, and I am not easily pleased; but there is one thing which you must beware of if you want our friendship to continue. I cannot be troubled with questions. The man who left me all these things was worried to death by the curiosity of other people. ‘Where did you get this? How did that come into your hands?’ and so on, There are some things here my possession of which would be so envied by some people, that I should never have a moment’s peace from their importunities. If you should come across any such treasure, and should reveal the place where you found it, you and I part company. Let that be thoroughly understood between us.” Of course I promised never to mention his name or address to any one.’ As William Henry paused a moment to take breath, ‘That will be rather awkward,’ observed Dennis gravely; ‘of course there was no help for it, but your inability to give a reference as to the discovery of the deeds will give rise to suspicion.’ ‘Suspicion of what?’ inquired Margaret, with a flush on her cheek. ‘Of the authenticity of the document. I should rather have said would strengthen suspicion, for that there will be objectors to it is certain.’ ‘My cousin has nothing to do with them,’ said Margaret; ‘surely he is not personally answerable for the genuineness of the deed.’ ‘Certainly not,’ answered Dennis gently. ‘Pray go on, Willie,’ said Margaret. It was plain that what Dennis had said had annoyed her in some way; not only was he himself, however, quite unconscious of the cause of offence, but William Henry appeared equally in the dark. He glanced from one to the other with a puzzled look before he took up his tale. ‘I have paid several visits to the Templar, as I will call him, since then, and he has been most kind and hospitable. As my time is not my own, and I can only occasionally leave the office, he has lent me a latch-key, so that I may enter his chambers when I please, and pursue my researches. In order, as I believe, to remove from me any unpleasant sense of obligation, he has asked me to catalogue his library for him; which is, of course, a labour of love.’ ‘Why, my good lad, it is evident the old gentleman intends to adopt you, and will make you his heir,’ exclaimed Dennis.