“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” he whispered. “Perhaps,” he continued, glancing at Barthorpe, “I had better tell you when and where it was made. About six months ago—in this room. One day Mr. Herapath called me in here. He had his then secretary, Mr. Burchill, with him. He took a document out of a drawer, told us that it was his will, signed it in our joint presence, and we witnessed his signature in each other’s presence. He then placed the will in an envelope, which he sealed. I do not know the terms of the will—but I know where the will is.”
Barthorpe’s voice sounded strangely husky as he got out one word:
“Where?”
Mr. Tertius took Peggie by the elbow and led her across the room to a recess in which stood an ancient oak bureau.
“This old desk,” he said, “belonged, so he always told me, to Jacob’s great-grandfather. There is a secret drawer in it. Here it is—concealed behind another drawer. You put this drawer out—so—and here is the secret one. And here—where I saw Jacob Herapath put it—is the will.”
Barthorpe, who had followed these proceedings with almost irrepressible eagerness, thrust forward a shaking hand. But Mr. Tertius quietly handed the sealed envelope to Peggie.
“This envelope,” he remarked, “is addressed to Miss Wynne.”
Barthorpe made an effort and controlled himself.
“Open it!” he said hoarsely. “Open it!”
Peggie fumbled with the seal of the envelope and then, with a sudden impulse, passed it to Selwood.