He had risen from his seat so eagerly and hastily that Mr. Flood scarcely understood. "Go where?" he asked. "To Doctors' Commons. We can see it there by paying a shilling." "Oh--ay, I'll go if you like. But I must have a wash first, and some refreshment. I have had neither since leaving Paris, and the crossing--ugh! I don't want to think of it." Mr. Chattaway controlled his impatience in the best manner he was able. At length they were fairly on their way--to the very spot for which Chattaway had been making once before that morning. Difficulties surmounted, Flood was soon deep in the perusal of Squire Trevlyn's will. He read it over slowly and thoughtfully, eyes and head bent, all his attention absorbed in the task. At its conclusion, he turned and looked full at Mr. Chattaway. "You are perfectly safe," he said. "The will is right and legal in every point." The relief brought a glow into Chattaway's dusky face. "I thought it strange if it could be wrong," he cried, drawing a deep breath. "It is only the codicil, you see, which affects you," continued Mr. Flood, pointing to the deed before them. "The will appears to have been made years before the codicil, and leaves the estate to the eldest son Rupert, and failing him, to Joseph. Rupert died; Joe died; and then the codicil was drawn up, willing it to you. You come in, you see, _after_ the two sons; contingent on their death; no mention whatever is made of the child Rupert." Chattaway coughed. He did not deem it necessary to repeat that Squire Trevlyn had never known the child Rupert was in existence: but Flood was, no doubt, aware of that fact. "It's a good thing for you Joe Trevlyn died before his father," carelessly remarked Mr. Flood, as he glanced again at the will. "Why?" cried Chattaway. "Because, had he not, this codicil would be valueless. It is----" "But he was dead, and it gives the estate to me," fiercely interrupted Chattaway, going into a white heat again. "Yes, yes. But it was a good thing, I say, for you. Had Joe been alive, he would have come in, in spite of this codicil; and he could have bequeathed the property to his boy after him." "Do you suppose I don't know all that?" retorted Chattaway. "It was only in consequence of Joe Trevlyn's death that the estate was willed to me. Had he lived, I never should have had it, or expected it." The peevish tone betrayed how sore was the subject altogether, and Mr. Flood smiled. "You need not be snappy over it, Chattaway," he said; "there's no cause for that. And now you may go back to the Hold in peace, without having your sleep disturbed by dreams of ejection. And if that unknown friend of yours should happen to mention in your hearing his kind intention of deposing you for Rupert Trevlyn, tell him, with my compliments, to come up here and read Squire Trevlyn's will."