“He told me himself,” continued the old lawyer, “that he had never seen either Miss Lawrence or Mr Paul Capel.”

Lydia murmured an assent.

“No,” said Capel, who felt a curious oppression at the chest, “I never saw my great uncle. I never even heard from or wrote to him.”

“May I ask why?”

“I knew he was reported to be immensely rich, and—well, I felt that he might think I was trying to curry favour.”

“Let me see, Mr Artis, I think the deceased did pay your debts?”

“Is this meant for an insult, sir?”

“No, sir; it was a business-like defence of my old friend’s memory. To proceed:—

“To Lydia Alicia Lawrence, my grand-niece, twenty-five thousand pounds, free of duty, the same to be invested in Consols, and if she marries, to be secured by marriage settlements to herself and children.”

There was a buzz of congratulation here, as the old solicitor once more wiped his glasses and arranged them and the candles, while, in spite of his endeavours to preserve his calmness, Paul Capel, the only one present yet unmentioned, felt the oppression increasing, and the air in the great gloomy room seemed to have become thick and hard to breathe.

He was as if in a dream as the lawyer went on:

“To Paul Capel, son of my nephew, Paul Capel, I leave my freehold house and furniture, library, plate, pictures, statues, bronzes, and curios, conditionally that the house be kept during his lifetime in the same state as it is in now.

“Conditionally, also, that my body, after embalming, according to my instructions, be carried into the room leading out of my bedroom, and placed in the iron receptacle I had specially constructed, without religious rite or ceremony of any kind. I have tried to make my peace with my Creator; to Him I leave the rest. This done, t