When they strolled into the drawing-room arm-in-arm, a little later, Mrs. Egerton rose from her arm-chair, rustling more than ever in her happy self-importance.
"My dear Xenie," she simpered, "let me be the first to congratulate you that your husband's missing will is found at last."
For answer, Xenie drew her to the window.
"Aunt Egerton, I forgot your bunch of roses," she said, "but I want you to look down there in that graveled walk."
She pointed to the tiny fragments of paper, and Mrs. Egerton's face grew pale.
"What is it?" she asked, uneasily.
"It is St. John's will," Xenie answered steadily, yet crimsoning painfully beneath her aunt's curious glance.
"And you have destroyed it," Mrs. Egerton exclaimed. "Were you mad, child?"
Xenie looked at her aunt with a gesture of proud humility.