The lawyer sighed heavily.
“No,” he said, giving the paper back to the clerk; “I believe the will is genuine.”
Just at this moment there was a stir in the assembly, and Gilbert Monckton turned round to see what was taking place.
It was Mrs. Jepcott, the housekeeper, who was saying something to which everybody listened intently.
The reason of this attention which the housekeeper’s smallest word received from every member of that assembly, was the fact that she held a paper in her hand. Every eye was fixed upon this paper. It might be a codicil revoking the will, and making an entirely new disposition of the property.
Faint streaks of red began to light up the wan cheeks of the two old maids, and Launcelot Darrell grew more livid than death. But it was not a codicil; it was only a letter written by Maurice de Crespigny, and addressed to his three nieces.
“The night before my poor dear master died,” the housekeeper said, “I was sitting up with him all alone, and he called me to him, and he told me to fetch him his dressing-gown, which he’d been wearing all through his illness, whenever he sat up; and I fetched it; and he took a sealed letter out of the breast-pocket, and he said to me, ‘Jepcott, when my will is read, I expect my three nieces will be very much disappointed and will think I have not treated them fairly; so I’ve written them a letter, begging them not to be angry with me after I’m dead and gone: and I want you to keep it, and take care of it, until the will has been read, and then give it to my eldest niece, Sarah, to read aloud to her two sisters in the presence of everybody.’ And this is the letter, miss,” added Mrs. Jepcott, handing the sealed letter to Sarah de Crespigny.
“Thank God!” thought Gilbert Monckton, “I shall know now whether the will is genuine. If it is a fabrication, this letter must bring detection upon the forger.”
CHAPTER XLIX.
DESERTED.
The letter written by the old man to his three nieces was read aloud by Miss Sarah in the presence of the eager assembly. Amongst all those anxious listeners there was no one who listened more intently than Gilbert Monckton.