I indicated the oak cabinet.
'Very good, ma'am—very good,' said Doctor Bryerly, as he fumbled the key into the lock.
Cousin Monica could not forbear murmuring—
'Dear! what a brute!'
The junior partner, with his dumpy hands in his pocket, poked his fat face over Mr. Grimston's shoulder, and peered into the cabinet as the door opened.
The search was not long. A handsome white paper enclosure, neatly tied up in pink tape, and sealed with large red seals, was inscribed in my dear father's hand:—'Will of Austin R. Ruthyn, of Knowl.' Then, in smaller characters, the date, and in the corner a note—'This will was drawn from my instructions by Gaunt, Hogg, and Hatchett, Solicitors, Great Woburn Street, London, A.R.R.'
'Let me have a squint at that indorsement, please, gentlemen,' half whispered the unpleasant person who represented my uncle Silas.
''Tisn't an indorsement. There, look—a memorandum on an envelope,' said Abel Grimston, gruffly.
'Thanks—all right—that will do,' he responded, himself making a pencil-note of it, in a long clasp-book which he drew from his coat-pocket.
The tape was carefully cut, and the envelope removed without tearing the writing, and forth came the will, at sight of which my heart swelled and fluttered up to my lips, and then dropped down dead as it seemed into its place.