“Where is Stephen?” he said.
As he spoke the door opened and Stephen entered. Jack, frank and candid, stared at him with astonishment.
“Are we ready?”
And they passed out.
In silence they stood beside the grave while all that was mortal of Ralph Davenant was consigned to the earth, and in silence they returned to the library.
With the same stony, impassive countenance, Mr. Hudsley seated himself at the head of the table; Stephen sank into a chair beside him, and sat with his eyes hidden under the white lids; Jack stood with folded arms beside the window, glancing at the far-stretching lawns and watching the servants as they filed in, a long line of black.
When they had all entered Mr. Hudsley drew from his pocket a folded parchment, slowly put on his spectacles, and without looking round, said:
“I am now about to read the last will and testament of Ralph Davenant.”
There was a pause, a solemn pause, then he looked up and said:
“This will was drawn up by me on January—last year. It is the last will of which I have any cognizance. A careful search has been made, but no other document of the kind has been found. That is so, Mr. Stephen, is it not?” and he turned to Stephen so suddenly that all eyes followed his.