Mr Samuel Collyer was seated in his office. Spread open on the table in front of him was Mr George Burton's will, which apparently he had just been studying. The study seemed to have afforded him amusement. Leaning back in his chair, he smiled. He referred to his watch.

'Twenty minutes past; they will soon be here. On these occasions, punctuality ought to be the rule, and generally is. George Burton was a curious man, and left a curious will. And yet I don't know. Why should I, or anyone, call it curious? By what right? When a man has neither wife nor children, and his only kindred are a couple of nephews to whom he is not particularly attached, surely he has a right to do as he likes with his own. It is his own--as yet. And if he chooses to attach to the succession certain conditions which appeal, we'll say, to his sense of humour, what title has anyone, lawyer or layman, to comment adversely on the expression of his wishes? So long as they are not in opposition to the general welfare of the body politic, it seems to me none. In a sense, most wills are curious, when you get right into them and understand their ins and outs. I daresay mine will be. I'm a bachelor. Upon my word, I don't know who has the best claim to the few pence I shall leave. Why shouldn't I ornament my testamentary dispositions with a few characteristic touches? Why not?'

While the lawyer propounded to himself this knotty problem, two visitors were shown in--Mr Holland, again upon Miss Broad's arm. He still was not himself. The effects of the sand-bag, which the Flyman had used with more enthusiasm than he had perhaps intended, had not yet all vanished. He seemed uncertain about his capacity to steer himself. He did not carry himself so upright as was his wont. There was a look upon his face which it had not previously worn--of indecision, irresolution, as if he was not quite master of his mental faculties. That sandbag had landed on the brain. Miss Broad seemed to regard him as if he were a child; she watched over him as if he were one, and it must be allowed that he appeared to appreciate to the full her tender care.

The diplomatic lawyer chose not to see the things which were patent. His greeting was,--

'I am glad to see you, Mr Holland, looking so much yourself. I was grieved to hear that you had had an accident.'

'Accident!' The reiteration was Miss Broad's. 'You call it accident!'

'My dear young lady, the words which lawyers use are not always intended to bear their strict dictionary significance.'

Another visitor was announced--Mr Horace Burton, as much at his ease as ever. Miss Broad blazed up at sight of him.

'You dare to come here!'

'Dare! Collyer, who's this young lady? Oh, it's Miss Broad, my future cousin. May I ask, Letty--you'll let me call you Letty?--why you should speak of my "daring" to come to my own lawyer's office? Hallo, Guy, you look squiffy! Buck up, my boy!'

He would have saluted his cousin with his open palm upon the back had not Miss Broad caught his arm as it was descending and flung it away. He gazed at her with what was meant for admiration.

'You are a warm one, Letty, really now! If you propose to slang Guy, as you seem fond of slanging me, you ought to have a pot of money to make it worth his while. He's likely to find marriage with you an expensive luxury, my dear.'

Mr Holland half rose from the chair on which Miss Broad had placed him. He spoke with hesitating tongue.

'You had better be careful--what you say.'

His relative laughed.

'You'd better be careful what you say, or you'll tumble down.'

Miss Broad laid her hand on Mr Holland's shoulder.

'Never mind what he says. I don't. He's not worth noticing.'

'Do you hear that, Collyer? Isn't she severe? But let's to business. I'm not come to engage in a tongue-match with a lady. The three months are up. Where's the ruby?'

Mr Collyer spoke.

'May I ask, Mr Holland, if you're in possession of the ring in question?'

It was Miss Broad who answered.

'No, he is not. Miss Bewicke calls herself his friend, and she even pretends to be mine, but her friendship does not go far enough to induce her to hand over property to its rightful owner which was never hers.'

Comment from Mr Burton,--

'How sad! That's very wrong of her. Shows such deplorable moral blindness, doesn't it? She is a wicked woman, is May Bewicke--heartless, hypocritical, selfish to the core. Well, Collyer, anyhow that settles it. The money's mine, and I give you my personal assurance I can do with it.'

'I have not the slightest doubt of that, Mr Burton; but, before we conclude, there is something which I have been instructed to hand to Mr Holland. It was for that purpose I requested your presence here. Permit me, Mr Holland, to hand you this.'

From a drawer in his writing-table the lawyer produced a small parcel. When Mr Holland had undone, with somewhat shaky fingers, the outer covering, it was seen that within was a leather-covered case. Inside was a note, which he unfolded.

'Dear Guy,' it ran, 'this is a wedding present from yours, May Bewicke.'

'This' was a ring--the ring--the famous ruby.

While they gathered round it, with a babble of voices, and Mr Burton showed himself disposed to bluster, Miss Bewicke herself appeared at the door with Mr Bryan Dumville. She advanced to Mr Holland and Miss Broad.

'My dear children, how are you both? So you have the ring? That's all right. Directly I heard of the will, I sent it to Mr Collyer--he's my uncle, don't you know? I thought it would be safer with him than it would be with me. A lone, lorn woman's rooms are always open to the machinations of the most dreadful characters, and you never know what may happen--burglaries and all sorts of things. And you see I do call myself Guy's friend, and I even pretend, Letty, to be yours. Don't I, Bryan, dear?'

Some of the latter words suggested that the little lady had been listening outside the door. Mr Dumville confined his attention to Mr Horace Burton.

'So it's you again? I shall have to kill you after all.'

Actually Mr Burton did not seem altogether at his ease.

'I suppose, Guy, you couldn't let me have a thousand pounds to get away with?' He laughed. 'No; it's no good. You'd better let me have it when I come out. They're waiting for me outside. A thousand would only be a drop in the sea. They wouldn't let me make a bolt of it for that.'

As he said, certain persons were waiting for him in the street. When he appeared, and it was discovered that he was not to have his uncle's money, within an hour he was arrested on a charge of forgery. It was a remarkable case, and not a savoury one. Neither prosecutors nor prisoner showed to advantage; but as it was clearly proved that Mr Horace Burton had forged, and put into circulation, a large number of acceptances and other legal documents, the jury had no option but to find him guilty. A hard-headed judge sent him to penal servitude for fourteen years.

The Flyman soon followed him, it was understood, to the same prison. His was a charge of robbery with violence in the City Road. The sand-bag again. As there were previous convictions against him, he suffered badly.

Mr Thomas Cox is still at large. He was seen lately on the cliff at Margate, with his wife and daughter, lounging on a chair listening to the band. He looked well and flourishing--an illustration of a sound mind in a sound body. But one never knows.

Mr Guy Holland and Mr Bryan Dumville were married at the same church, at the same time, on the same day. They are the best of friends. Their wives swear by one another. Mrs Guy Holland is convinced that Mrs Bryan Dumville is the most charming woman on the English stage, just as Mrs Bryan Dumville is certain that Mrs Guy Holland is the altogether most delightful person off it.

THE END

EDINBURGH
COLSTON AND COY. LIMITED
PRINTERS