After shaking hands with both men, Frederik, perhaps unconsciously, wiped his own on his handkerchief. Then going to the desk, he took a paper from under the paperweight. After studying it a moment, he said (smiling a bit to himself and turning that the others might not see the smile):
"I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. I came across it only this morning."
Both Mr. Batholommey and Colonel Lawton tried to conceal their excitement.
"I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman," announced Colonel Lawton, "but he always tore 'em up."
Then, throwing back his head and peering at Frederik through his spectacles:
"May I have a drink of his plum brandy, Frederik?"
"Certainly," answered Frederik carelessly. "Help yourself. Pastor, will you have some?"
Colonel Lawton poured out a glass of brandy and offered it to Mr. Batholommey, then helped himself with alacrity. In the roll of thunder which came at that moment, no one heard the footsteps of Mrs. Batholommey, as she entered from the "front parlour."
The tableau that met her vision caused her to give a little shriek as she stopped short, and gazed with horror-struck eyes at her husband and his brandy glass.
"Why, Henry! What are you doing? Are your feet wet?"