‘Well, you’re a nice honest young woman, anyhow!’ remarked Tor, seeing that the girl had not anything of much importance either to tell or to conceal. ‘Now, you go straight up to your room, and stay there till you have leave to quit it. And pack up your things ready to go back to your old mistress when the right time comes; but if you dare to disobey and leave before you have permission, it will be the worse for you.’ And with that Tor strode back to his room, and finished his night in peace. In the morning, at the breakfast-table, he told his story, which was listened to with great excitement and interest. ‘You never let them go scot-free!’ cried Miss Marjory. ‘Oh, Mr. Torwood, I thought better things of you! Why did you not confront them at their task?’ ‘Because I thought that, on the whole, it would be better to confront them later on with the will in my hand, and the information on my lips, that it was to their nocturnal visits I owed the clue which had enabled us to find it. I thought that, on the whole, that would be the most crushing way of doing it.’ ‘Perhaps!’ said Miss Marjory, still half-reluctantly; ‘but I never could have resisted the temptation, if I had been there.’ ‘And now the will will be found!’ cried Phil, ‘and Maud will have her rights again. Oh, if this isn’t just first-rate! Tor, you rascal, why didn’t you summon me to confront my virtuous aunt and uncle?’ ‘I felt it was not safe to let them out of my sight; and I’m not sure, in any case, if I could have trusted your discretion.’ ‘You see, he’s boss still, for all his protestations,’ said Phil to Miss Marjory. ‘I always have to play second fiddle to him, in reality.’ ‘And a good thing too,’ answered Miss Marjory, with emphasis. Mrs. Lorraine had listened with intense interest to Tor’s account of what he had overheard the Belassis’ say to one another. When she really understood that the will—whose existence had always been suspected—was supposed to be hidden away in the library at Ladywell, a little pink flush rose in her cheeks, and she hastily left the room, returning, however, in a few minutes with an old-fashioned manuscript-book. ‘My dear,’ she began, half-timidly, half-eagerly, ‘I think I have something here which may prove a clue. I have not thought of it for many years; but perhaps there was a meaning in it which I did not understand. I will read you a little bit out of my diary, about the death of your dear father, Philip. I think I can understand better now what it was he meant.’ Everyone listened with interest to the extract, which Mrs. Lorraine proceeded to read: ‘“My dear brother-in-law died this morning, at nine o’clock. I was with him alone during his last hours, for it was no place for young children, and he could not endure Alfred Belassis near him, and became so painfully excited if he even appeared, that we had to forbid him the house.