But after about five minutes of eager, rapid search, a silence and slight consternation fell upon the searchers, for it became evident that there was no will hidden away in these volumes. ‘It’s gone!’ cried Phil dismally, ‘or else it’s in some of the other books. What a sell! I thought we were safe to find it. Can anybody else have been beforehand with us?’ ‘Not likely,’ said Tor, ‘as the Belassis’ have failed in their attempt. Bar accident, it ought still to be here. Does anybody know if the books have been left just as they were when Mr. Maynard was alive?’ ‘Yes; they have not been disturbed at all,’ said Mrs. Lorraine. ‘They are all in their old places, as he kept them.’ ‘That is well,’ said Tor, and strode across to where the vacant space yawned, from which the books had just been removed. The rest crowded round him as he began a careful examination of the woodwork behind the shelves, tapping with his knuckles on every inch of exposed wood. ‘There!’ cried Miss Marjory suddenly; ‘there’s a hollow there. Try again!’ Tor did so, and the doubt became a certainty. ‘There’s a crack in the woodwork here, too,’ he said, scanning it eagerly. ‘A chisel and a hammer, and we’ll see what we shall see!’ Maud darted off and quickly returned, bringing the required implements. A little dexterous manœuvring and a square of wood fell forwards, disclosing to view a cavity into which was inserted a paper, folded square, so as just to fit the place made for its reception. ‘Maud,’ said Tor, turning round, ‘you had better take it out. I am convinced that it is your father’s last will.’ Maud’s hand trembled a little as she did his bidding. In perfect silence she drew the paper out of its long-hidden place of concealment, and looked at the superscription: ‘_To my daughter, Maud Debenham_.’ ‘You open it,’ she said, giving it to Tor. ‘I don’t feel as if I could.’ Tor obeyed. The envelope addressed to Maud contained two documents; one was a letter, the other a paper, which bore the important words, ‘Last will and testament of Philip Debenham,’ dated four months later than the will which had been produced by Belassis. ‘Read it, Tor,’ said Maud. He obeyed. It was not a long will. It merely, as before, left all the father’s property to Philip and the mother’s to Maud—without any condition whatever. Mr. Twyne, the lawyer, and Mr. Maynard were appointed executors, and Mr. Maynard was made guardian to the children. Mr. Debenham seemed to have a presentiment that his hale and hearty old uncle would outlive him, as indeed had been the case. He had had an idea that he would die young, which also had verified itself. No mention whatever was made in the will of Belassis or of his son. The letter to Maud was next read; it was a very different production from the one Mr. Belassis had brought forward. ‘MY DEAR DAUGHTER,