Chapter Seventeen.
The Tenth Night.
“It might be,” thought Capel, as he dwelt upon the adventure of that night.
Katrine had descended to breakfast the next morning, and he fancied she blushed slightly as he pressed her hand; but she looked so frankly in his face that he could not but think that she was ignorant of what had taken place.
The days slipped by, and in company, by a private understanding, Capel and the old lawyer searched every article of furniture that could possibly have been made the receptacle of the lost treasure.
“I’ll help you, of course, my dear sir,” said the old man, “if you wish it; but I really think we shall do no good.”
There had been several talks about breaking up the party, but Capel, as host, had always begged that his companions would stay, urging Mr Girtle to back him up by proposing that there should be no change until the whole of the business of the will was completed so far as the others were concerned.
“I shall find my share at last,” Capel said, laughingly. “And besides, I have the house.”