Jones, "I never yet was a witness to. And that last paracism when he gave a screech that you might have heard on the top of Hampsteadheath, was most awful! I told him then I thought he ought for to see the doctor without no more delay, which he agreed to it with a shiver, and so Thomas you must ride off to St. John's-wood and fetch the nighest."

II.

MRS. JONES's advice had not been taken too soon, for when the medical man arrived, whose "signal of distress"-his coloured lamphad caught Thomas's eye as he galloped up the Finchley-road, he did what most doctors generally do in the first instance-looked grave, and

shook his head.

"Pulse," said Mr. Gorrick, pausing and ejaculating-"pulse soft and weak-circulation languid-rigour-animal heat deficient-voice feeble -any cough?-hum-ha!-debility-yes, a good deal of debilitymustn't fast too long-shouldn't be exposed to cold-dangerous at a certain time of life-stimulants necessary-send something to do goodmeantime, Mrs. Jones-kind enough-nice beef-tea-soon as possiblehalf an hour after, glass of old port wine-medicine at bedtime, that is to say, usual hour-needn't be uneasy-only want restoratives-do very well see him in the morning."

Having comforted his patient, Mr. Gorrick left the room, followed closely by Mrs. Jones, who, wanting something a little stronger in the way of opinion to descant upon down stairs, asked him, when she was fairly outside, what he really thought of her master's condition.

"You have lived here some time?" inquired Mr. Gorrick, in reply. "Not here, but with Mr. Crowther going on for five-and-twenty years."

"Then I don't mind telling you, Mrs. Jones, that I suspect"-he leaned forward, and whispered" I suspect the heart is affected: what we term 'dilatation with attenuation.' How old is Mr. Crowther?" "Eighty-one, sir, next birthday."

"Hum-ha! See he takes what I send. Good night, Mrs. Jones. Call early to-morrow."

"No!" said Mrs. Jones to herself, as she closed the door on Mr. Gorrick, "he's wrong there. Nothing ever affected his heart. Look at Master James and his young family: poor starving things!"

Whether it were the beef-tea, the port wine, the medicine, a combination of all three, or the gradual fading away of the exciting cause of illness, is uncertain, but Mr. Crowther seemed better on the following day. The symptoms, Mr. Gorrick said, were alleviated, and his patient, encouraged by his words, turned his thoughts, from the fear which had possessed them, into their old channel. There was a sum of money lying at his banker's-doing nothing, as he grumbled-about investing which he was anxious. He must consult Mr. Vowles, his attorney, respecting the security which had been offered for a loan at a high per-centage, and though not well enough to get up-that, after all, did not signify, he could transact business where he lay as well as in his chair-a message was despatched desiring Mr. Vowles's immediate attendance. In the

course of the afternoon the lawyer made his appearance, and was shown at once into his patron's bed-chamber, a locality which there is a reason for describing.

It was a spacious and lofty apartment, dimly lit, in the dark December weather, by a single pointed window in a deep embrasure, with solid mullions and diapered panes. The walls were wainscoted; an immense oaken press occupied one end of the room; on the third side yawned a wide chimney-piece, built for burning wood on the hearth, on which some large logs were blazing brightly; and on the fourth side stood a bed of Elizabethan dimensions, carved and ornamented in Elizabethan fashion, with the addition of much damask drapery that swept in heavy folds to the floor; a massive table covered with a thick cloth, and numerous highbacked chairs, completed the furniture of the apartment, where all was, to a great extent, in uniform sombre keeping.

We need not occupy ourselves with the details of the conversation between Mr. Crowther and his attorney, so far as it referred to the investment of the old man's superfluous cash; but that which followed, having a direct relation to the events which afterwards occurred, requires to be told.

"And now, sir," said Mr. Vowles, "this matter being settled, I think, to your satisfaction, perhaps it may not be amiss, since I am here, if we go a little into the other business that you were speaking of the last time I had the pleasure of attending."

Old Dick Crowther, who sat propped up with pillows, his long arms resting on the counterpane, like sentinels over the papers which he had just examined, cast a sharp glance at the attorney, but did not make an immediate reply. Mr. Vowles, therefore, returned to the charge.

"If you remember, sir," he began―

"I know, I know," testily exclaimed Mr. Crowther; "you mean the will. I'm not likely to forget that."

"Oh no, sir, of course not. Only I thought I would just name it." "You thought! Did you think of anything else? My illness, for example?"

"Well, sir," hesitated the attorney-" you know, sir, a little-what shall I say?-indisposed-and-and

you

have been

"I might be carried off in a hurry before you got what you wanted.

Was that it?"

"Mr. Crowther! I assure youThe old man laughed satirically.

"Don't tell me any lies. I know you. If I didn't, you'd never have done for me. So you think I had better make my will! But, I tell you what, Vowles, I'm not so bad as you fancy. I feel quite well again."

"I'm delighted, sir, to hear you say so. All I meant was, that it might be prudent to guard against accidents. They will happen, you know, sir, to the very strongest, and with your large property, consider, sir-if you left no will, all of it would go to the very person who-if I understand you rightly-you don't wish to succeed to it."

"Don't wish!" almost screamed the old man. shan't have it! He shan't have it, I tell you! Do have it!"

"In that case, sir

"Curse him! He you hear? He shan't

"In that case? Ah! that confounded shiver and spasm! Well, you're right. We had better go to work. Give me yonder box from the table beside you!"

Mr. Crowther unlocked it with a key which hung from a chain round his neck. He took out some papers, looked at what was written on the back of one of them, unfolded it, and read it through. When he had done, he handed it to the attorney and told him to do the same.

Mr. Vowles eagerly obeyed, but after devouring two or three lines, he suddenly stopped short, and his face became white as ashes.

Old Dick Crowther, who watched him intently, gave way to an exulting burst of laughter.

"What!" he cried, "you thought you had lost ha! ha! Look at the date, man-look at the date." Mr. Vowles hastily turned the leaf.

your chance! Ha!

"I see, sir," he said, with an effort to recover himself. "It is a willdrawn up-and witnessed-ten years ago-in favour of your only son— James-Crowther-but-there is no codicil-it is not revoked!"

"We will revoke it in a moment, Vowles. You see that fire! I needn't tell you what to do!"

The attorney skipped across the room and thrust the paper between the blazing logs, bending over them till it was entirely consumed.

"We have cleared the ground now," resumed old Dick Crowther. "If your nerves are steady enough, take pen and paper and write to my dictation: if not, never mind, another time will suit me."

"Oh no, sir, no,-now, now," urged the attorney, breathless again, but from a different cause. "I'm quite ready, sir-quite!"

"We'll make it short, Vowles."

"The shorter, sir, the better."

Old Dick Crowther then, in a steady voice, set forth his intentions, in that last will and testament which the eager attorney rapidly penned. Divested of all technicalities, the document declared that the testator bequeathed to his only son James "the sum of one shilling, as a reward for filial obedience," and to "Martin Vowles, Gent., one, &c.," the whole of his real and the residue of his personal estate, after the aforesaid legacy and all the testator's just debts were paid.

Mr. Vowles, when he laid down his pen, thought it necessary to make a speech.

"Your bounty, your goodness, Mr. Crowther, will ever be engraved on a grateful heart. I want words, sir, to express

"Don't trouble yourself to look for 'em, Vowles," interrupted old Dick Crowther. "Shall I tell you why I have made you my heir?"

"I have no merit to plead, sir, except the desire to serve you faithfully." "No merit. Yes, you have, Vowles. You have one merit, that exceeds any your modesty keeps in the background. I leave you my money, because"-how the old man enjoyed the attorney's suspense-" because— you are the greatest scoundrel I ever knew in all my life!"

And with another burst of laughter the old man fell back exhausted on his pillow.

Unpalatable as was the compliment, Mr. Vowles swallowed it, there being no one by to see the dirt he ate.

"Who shall we have, sir, to witness it ?" he asked, as soon as old Dick Crowther had left off laughing.

"Anybody; call Jones, and Thomas. They'll do, I suppose!" "Perfectly, sir-perfectly!"

The housekeeper and groom were summoned, and the paper being doubled back to hide the contents, old Dick Crowther affixed his name to it; the act was witnessed by Jane Jones and Thomas Hedges, and they were dismissed.

"Give me the paper," said Mr. Crowther.

Mr. Vowles handed it to him. He ran his eye over it, muttering to himself the while,

"One shilling-yes-a shilling's worth of sugar-plums for his brats. Or a bonnet-string for his wife. She's a fine lady they say. A shilling to buy her a ribbon !"

Something more followed. Perhaps another compliment to Mr. Vowles, but it was inaudible.

Perceiving that he had read it through, the attorney held out his hand to receive back the will, but if he had formed the hope of keeping it in his custody he was disappointed.

"No," said Mr. Crowther, "it will be safer here than anywhere else. Besides, I may want to look at it again."

And he put the will under his pillow, and lay down on it, like a "gryphon," over "the guarded gold."

"Vowles," said he, "you may go! I don't want you any more now. Mind you bring me those securities to-morrow! Good night!"

By this time the evening was far advanced, and though the attorney took leave of his patron, he did not leave the house. It was usual with Mr. Vowles now and then to take a bed there, and on this occasion the thought struck him that it would be better if he remained where he was. Mrs. Jones sent him up some supper; he made himself comfortable, and by ten o'clock all the inmates of Ardmore House were hushed in repose.

III.

WHAT was that shriek in the dead of the night that woke every one from sleep in Ardmore House, crying, "Woe ! woe!" in accents the shrillest that ever startled human ear?

The attorney leaped up and sat trembling, for the sound came upon him in the midst of a dream, wherein the preparation of the iniquitous will which he had counselled was being re-enacted-with this addition, that the heir whom he had despoiled was there, striving to wrest the paper from his grasp, while old Dick Crowther's mocking laughter rang in his ears. He listened, fearing to hear the cry again, but it was not repeated, and trusting that indigestion only had caused his alarm, he tried to compose himself once more to sleep. Conscience, however, was too wakeful: in one short minute, as he lay there-a minute that seemed interminable -all the worst and meanest acts of his life came crowding into his thoughts, combat as he would against them. To drive them away he sat up again, and then he fancied he heard a noise, as if somebody were in the passage. He listened more intently, and felt sure he heard a footstep, but he was too much frightened to ask who was there, dreading something he knew not what. He held his breath, but for a time everything was still. At length-the interval appeared long to him, though it was brief in

reality-another cry arose, echoing through the house, a cry unlike the first, but almost as piercing. It was a woman's voice screaming for help, yet the coward did not stir: bathed in a cold perspiration, he shrank down in bed, covering his head with the clothes.

"Help! help! my master! my master!"

Immediately afterwards there was a sharp knocking at the attorney's bedroom door.

"Oh, Mr. Vowles-pray, sir, get up and come this way. I am afraid Mr. Crowther is dead!"

"Dead !" gasped Mr. Vowles. "I-I-I haven't a light." Then, some impulse getting the better of his fear, he cried, "Stay, stay, don't go away-I-I will join you directly. Is nobody there but you, Mrs. Jones ?"

But she was now appealing to others for aid. The two maid-servants, the groom, and the gardener had rushed up-stairs, all but the last more or less scared. Mr. Vowles heard them hurry past his door, and remembering that in a multitude there is safety, he huddled on his clothes as well as he could, and made haste after them.

When Mr. Vowles entered the room where the servants were assembled, he saw at a glance that Mrs. Jones's apprehension was verified.

There lay old Dick Crowther on his back, rigid as stone: in his last agony his head had slipped from the pillow and hung over the side of the bed. Death, however, as it seemed, had not taken him without some warning. He had apparently wrestled with the dark shadowperhaps endeavoured to ring for assistance-for the bed-clothes were disordered, and one of the curtains was partly torn down, the old man's left hand still clutching the folds that were gathered round his head.

Had he been taken with an ague fit in the first instance, and left his bed to warm himself? It appeared likely, for the embers were scattered over the hearth. And, finding the fire extinguished, had crept back again, and the death-pains had seized him.

This was Mrs. Jones's belief. What did Mr. Vowles think?

Only one idea possessed the mind of Mr. Vowles. If old Dick Crowther was dead, he, Mr. Vowles, was his heir. Capricious and deceitful the old man might have been, but the suddenness of his death had prevented the possibility of his altering his will.

Wasting no time, therefore, on useless conjectures, Mr. Vowles rushed to the bed, and, leaning on the corpse, thrust his hand under the pillow. But that which he sought for he sought in vain. The will was not there!

Who had removed it?

With quick suspicion the attorney turned to Mrs. Jones.

"What have you done with that paper," he cried, "which you, and Thomas there, witnessed last night?"

"Me, sir!" exclaimed the astonished housekeeper. "I done with it, sir? I've never set eyes upon it since-not from that hour to this!" "You lie, woman! You were in this room by yourself, and you must have taken it!"

Before she could reply he again tossed over the pillow, threw it into the middle of the room, and rummaged the bed in every direction,