Yes, the notary was in. He was entertaining some friends at dinner. Ursula drew back. “Show me into an office, or some such place,” she said. The notary, convivial in dress and appearance, came to her in a little chilly back room, full of inkstains and dusty deeds.
“Nothing is wrong, I hope,” he began; then, noticing the queer bandage under Ursula’s dark-red bonnet, “You have had an accident?”
“No,” replied Ursula. “Mynheer Noks, I am sorry to disturb you just now, but I can’t wait. If I were to die to-night, who would be my heir?”
“That depends upon whether you have made a will,” replied the notary.
“I have not made a will.”
“In that case your father is your natural heir.”
“So I thought. Then, notary, I must request you—I am very sorry to trouble you—but I must request you to make my will to-night.”
“My dear lady, certainly. I presume you have brought your written instructions? Leave them with me, and to-morrow I will bring up a draft which we can talk over together.” Ursula stopped him by a gesture.
“I must have the document signed and sealed,” she said, “with its full legal value, to-night.”