More than two months had elapsed since Mr. Maynard’s death, but until the previous day they had had no means of communicating with Phil. This interval had given time for the proving of the will, and enabled his executors to make the following announcement. Phil had come into a valuable landed property, with a fine house and park, and valuable plate, pictures, and family furniture and heirlooms, and about £80,000 in money. The lawyer concluded by urging his coming at once to England, to assume the control over his fortune and estate. Enclosed was an order upon a well-known German house for £100, and a sealed document, on the outside of which was written, in a cramped, clear hand: ‘To be given to my great-nephew Philip Debenham, when the contents of my last will and testament are made known to him.—T. M. M.’ Tor was pulling mercilessly at his moustache, whilst a perplexed frown knitted his brow. After one more glance at Phil’s prostrate figure, he proceeded to open this sealed missive. It was dated three years back, and ran thus: ‘To my great-nephew Philip Debenham, whom I have never seen. ‘If ever you get this letter it will be at a time when you will just be gloating over the news of your accession to wealth. Gloat on—I don’t wish to stop you. I merely wish to rid your mind of any foolish notion you may take that I have any affection for, or interest in you. I have not one spark of either. If you care to know why I have made you my heir, I will tell you. My chief reason is to spite that fawning scoundrel Belassis and his worthy spouse, who have been flattering me and grovelling at my feet, and longing and praying for my death these score of years past, and it will enrage him far more if I leave it to you, than if I bequeath it to some philanthropic or public object; therefore, as you are my natural heir and Belassis’ natural enemy, I leave you all I have, and trust that your right feeling and your father’s wrongs will enable you to keep up the quarrel and ruin your rascally uncle. ‘It is a good thing that your uncle’s spite kept you away from this place. He meant to do you an ill turn, but he has done you a good one. If I had ever seen you, most probably I should hold you in profound contempt—the young men of the present day are supremely contemptible—and perhaps I should be unable to make up my mind to enrich you, even with the inducement of arousing the Belassis fury. As it is, I can give my imagination play, and picture you what I choose. You cannot be quite a fool, or you would not have given Belassis the slip and bolted as you did. When I first heard of that act, I said to myself, “There is stuff in that lad. If I see and hear no more of him I will make him my heir.” Belassis has taken care that I should hear and see no more of you, therefore _he_ has made you my heir. Pay him the debt you owe him, lad, and _pay him in his own coin_.