"Didn't I say how much?"
"No. And I did not like to ask you. Of course you knew how much it was?"
"Of course I did. I read the will."
"I wish you could remember."
"I wish I could, Frank. I ought to. I'll sleep upon it, and perhaps it will come to me in the morning."
"Where is the will?" asked Charles, speaking for the first time. "Don't you hold it, papa?"
Major Raynor took his long pipe from his mouth, and turned the stem towards an old-fashioned walnut bureau that stood by the side of the fireplace. The upper part of it was his own, and was always kept locked; the lower part consisted of three drawers, which were used indiscriminately by Mrs. Raynor and the children.
"It's there," said the major. "I put it there when I brought it home, and I've never looked at it since."
As if the thought suddenly came to him to look at it then, he put his pipe in the fender, took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and unlocked the bureau. It disclosed some pigeon-holes above, some small, shallow drawers beneath them, three on each side, and one deeper drawer in the middle. Selecting another key, he unlocked this last, pulled the drawer right out, and put it on the table. Two sealed parchments lay within it.
"Ay, this is it," said the major, selecting one of them. "See, here's the superscription: 'Will of Mistress Ann Atkinson.' And that is my own will," he added, nodding to the other. "See, Charley: you'll know where to find it in case of need. Not that any of you would be much the better for it, my lad, as things are at present. They will be different with us when Eagles' Nest falls in."