‘And Phil, the real Phil, will be so fond of us!’ cried Bertha eagerly. ‘He will be so grateful to mamma—and to me too—for having found it all out; and to papa and mamma for bringing him back, and helping him against that wicked man he thought was his friend! Oh, it will all be so different and so nice! There will be no more quarrels now. Phil will quite seem to belong to us; and I’m sure he will always feel that he can never be grateful enough, or do enough for us, for doing so much for him. It will be altogether delightful!’ This was an eminently pleasing view of the matter, and the sisters became enthusiastic. ‘Oh, mamma, how long will it be before something happens? Please tell us what you are going to do!’ ‘My first step,’ said Mrs. Belassis deliberately, ‘will be to have an interview with this man who calls himself Philip Debenham. After that, I shall know better on what ground we stand.’ CHAPTER II. THE ATTACK. ‘Have you ever examined the securities of Maud’s trust-money?’ asked Miss Marjory of Tor. ‘Do you know how it is invested, or what interest has been accumulating? The interest, even of the five thousand only, will have mounted up in eighteen years. Have you ever made inquiries into the question?’ ‘I have made a few inquiries; but I have not elicited much information. Mr. Belassis—as guardian, trustee, and executor—has had full power over the money all this time, and has seen fit to resent any kind of questioning from me.’ ‘That looks bad,’ said Miss Marjory. ‘That man is a rogue, Philip.’ ‘I am aware of it.’ ‘A pretty sort of trustee! How could Mr. Debenham have trusted him?’ ‘I believe he did not do so. I believe he made a later will. I believe this one was a mere blind——’ ‘A later will!’ cried Miss Marjory exultantly. ‘Why, of course he did—that would explain it all. I could not conceive how a sane man——But where _is_ the later will, then? Why is it not produced? Why does this one stand?’ Tor shook his head. ‘We are afraid it fell into the hands of Belassis, as the mass of papers did. You know as well as I, what its fate would be then.’ ‘You think he has destroyed it?’ ‘I do.’ Miss Marjory paused, with her head on one side. By-and-by she said: ‘So do not I.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Because he is so unequivocally anxious for Maud’s marriage with his son. Maud would only bring in a dowry of five thousand, as matters stand now—a mere pittance for a young lady of refined and expensive tastes. But if he suspects the existence of a later will, his anxiety is explained. When Maud is his son’s wife, he could snap his fingers at any discovery.’ Tor’s eyes brightened. ‘There is a great deal in what you say, Miss Marjory. I have not been blind to the strangeness of Mr. Belassis’ eagerness for the marriage. I taxed him with it once, and asked point-blank for his motive. You may guess whether he told it.’