The Lost Heir

by G. A. Henty

"God bless me!" Mr. Halstead exclaimed. "This is a bad business indeed—and a very strange one. Do you think that this Mr. Simcoe can have been aware of this provision in his favor?"

"It is likely enough that he was aware of it," Mr. Pettigrew said; "he was constantly in the company of General Mathieson, and the latter, who was one of the frankest of men, may very well have informed him; but whether he actually did do so or not of course I cannot say. Would you have any objection to my looking at the written instructions?"

"Certainly not. I brought them with me in order that they may be referred to as to any question that might arise."

"It is certainly in the General's own handwriting," Mr. Pettigrew said, after looking at the paper. "But, indeed, the identity of the legacies given to some twenty or thirty persons, and of all the other provisions of the will, including the appointment of trustees and guardians, with those of the will in our possession, would seem in itself to set the matter at rest. Were you present yourself when the General signed it?"

"Certainly. Both Mr. James and myself were present. I can now only express my deep regret that we acceded to the General's request to draw up the will."

"It is unfortunate, certainly," Mr. Farmer said. "I do not see that under the circumstances of his introduction by an old client, and the fact that you had seen him before, anyone could blame you for undertaking the matter. Such cases are, as you said, by no means unusual, and I am quite sure that you would not have undertaken it, had you considered for a moment that any injustice was being done by its provisions."

"May I ask to whom the property was to go to by the first will?"

"It was to go to Miss Covington. I am sure that I can say, in her name, that under other circumstances she would not feel in any way aggrieved at the loss of a property she can well dispense with, especially as the chances of that provision coming into effect were but small, as the child was a healthy little fellow, and in all respects likely to live to come of age."

"I do not care in the least for myself," Hilda said impetuously. "On the contrary, I would much rather that it had gone to someone else. I should not have at all liked the thought that I might benefit by Walter's death, but I would rather that it had been left to anyone but this man, whom I have always disliked, and whom Walter also disliked. I cannot give any reason why. I suppose it was an instinct, and now the instinct is justified, for I feel sure that he is at the bottom of Walter's disappearance."

"Hush! hush! my dear young lady," Mr. Farmer said, holding up his hand in dismay, "you must not say such things; they are libelous in the extreme. Whatever suspicions you may have—and I own that at present things look awkward—you must not mention those suspicions until you obtain some evidence in their support. The disappearance of the child at this moment may be a mere coincidence—a singular one, if you like—and we shall, of course, examine the matter to the utmost and sift it to the bottom, but nothing must be said until we have something to go on."