“Now, Lady Holmhurst, if you please,” said Mr. John Short, “allow me to show the way, if you will kindly follow with the will—this way, please.”
In another minute, the unfortunate “will” found herself in a large and lofty room, at the top of which, with his back to the light, sat a most agreeable-looking middle-aged gentleman, who, as they advanced, rose with a politeness that one does not generally expect from officials on a fixed salary, and, bowing, asked them to be seated.
“Well, what can I do for you? Mr.—ah! Mr.”—and he put on his eye-glasses and referred to his notes—“Mr. Short—you wish to file a will, I understand; and there are peculiar circumstances of some sort in the case?”
“Yes, Sir; there are,” said Mr. John Short, with much meaning. “The will to be filed in the Registry is the last true will of Jonathan Meeson, of Pompadour Hall, in the county of Warwick, and the property concerned amounts to about two millions. Upon last motion day, the death of Jonathan Meeson, who was supposed to have sunk in the Kangaroo, was allowed to be presumed, and probate has been taken out. As a matter of fact, however, the said Jonathan Meeson perished in Kerguelen Land some days after the shipwreck, and before he died he duly executed a fresh will in favour of his nephew, Eustace H. Meeson, the gentleman before you. Miss Augusta Smithers”—
“What,” said the learned Registrar, “is this Miss Smithers whom we have been reading so much about lately—the Kerguelen Land heroine?”
“Yes; I am Miss Smithers,” she said with a little blush; “and this is Lady Holmhurst, whose husband”—and she checked herself.
“It gives me much pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Smithers,” said the learned Doctor, courteously shaking hands, and bowing to Lady Holmhurst—proceedings which Eustace watched with the jaundiced eye of suspicion. “He’s beginning already,” said that ardent lover to himself. “I knew how it would be. Trust my Gus into his custody?—never! I had rather be committed for contempt.”
“The best thing that I can do, Sir,” went on John Short, impatiently, for, to his severe eye, these interruptions were not seemly, “will be to at once offer you inspection of the document, which, I may state, is of an unusual character,” and he looked at Augusta, who, poor girl, coloured to the eyes.
“Quite so, quite so,” said the learned Registrar. “Well, has Miss Smithers got the will? Perhaps she will produce it.”
“Miss Smithers is the will,” said Mr. John Short.