These particulars were duly forwarded to Miss Drury, and, by her order, the bank-notes, amounting to one hundred and seventy pounds, were paid in to the account of the late Mr. Drury, and the pass-book made up to that date. The bank-notes found on Scammel were retained by the coroner to be produced, if necessary, on the trial of Hopcraft. But another important document was found by George Woodburn in Mr. Drury’s desk—his will. By this he had left the whole of his real and personal property to his only daughter, and an annuity, payable out of it, of five hundred pounds a-year to his widow. There were, besides, several small bequests to relatives, and sixty pounds each to the two trustees, whom George, to his great surprise, found to be himself and Mr. Fairfax of Castleborough. The afflicted wife and daughter had never had the heart to inquire after the will. They knew there was one, and believed it was all right. This document was now duly executed by the trustees, and George found himself the accredited manager of Bilts’ Farm for the leaseholder, Elizabeth Drury. Immediately on receiving this authority, George Woodburn made a formal claim on the coroner for the bank-notes found on Scammel, they being by their numbers clearly identified as the late Mr. Drury’s property, and received an engagement to deliver them up to him immediately after the March assizes. The great mystery cleared up of Mr. Drury’s death, a cloud had passed from Woodburn Grange. Mr. Woodburn lost that depressing melancholy which had hung upon him, and made him shut himself up in gloomy moodiness. Once more he could mount his horse, and range over his farm, and enjoy a chat with his workmen as in past times. Once more he could meet and salute a neighbour without thinking. “And that man can suspect me of so foul and beastly a crime as murder!” There were moments in which the very idea that it had been possible for any man who had ever known him in the least degree to believe such a thing of him, made his blood glow with indignation. But all the world now knew and acknowledged that he had been falsely accused, and thus most injuriously treated, and that gave him again the possession of equanimity and of a healthy enjoyment of life. He also reflected with emotion on the love of his own family, of the affectionate assiduity of his wife and daughters, on the tender and manly carefulness and management of George, on the decided and nobly asserted faith in him of Elizabeth Drury. He had a feeling that Mrs. Drury had not been so free from suspicion; “but she is a weak creature,” he said, “and so, no matter.” He thought proudly of the firm and generous truth of all his friends, and especially of the devoted and untiring zeal of his new son-in-law, Sir Henry Clavering. Once more he saw Thorsby, solemn and quiet, pursuing a steady life of business, and fast regaining the esteem of his townsmen. Once more he could see his