“Furthermore, the remainder of the sum of fifty thousand pounds in Consols, after providing for the payments hereinbefore stated as legacies, I desire my executor to distribute in twenty equal sums to as many deserving charities as he may select.”
The reading of the rest of the document occupied scarcely a couple of minutes, and then the old solicitor rose. The servants slowly left the room, making a détour so as to bow and courtesy to the Colonel’s heir, Ramo last—furtively watching Charles—to go slowly to the young man’s side, bow reverently, take his hand, and kiss it, saying softly the one word:
“Sahib.”
“Don’t go, Ramo,” said Mr Girtle; and the old Indian slowly backed into the corner by the door, where he stood nearly invisible, waiting until such time as he should be called upon to give up his share of the secret of the chamber beyond the dead man’s room.
Chapter Six.
A Fit of Generosity.
“Mr Paul Capel,” said the old solicitor, “allow me to add my congratulations, and my hope that your fortune may prove a blessing.”
“But it is like a dream—a romance,” cried Paul Capel. “All that wealth here—in this house! I wonder that he was not robbed.”