Frank had taken the packet from the major's hand, and was looking at the seal: a large red seal, with an imposing impression.
"I suppose you would not like to open this will, uncle? Would it be wrong to do so?"
The major shook his head, slowly but decisively. "I can't open it, Frank. Although I know its contents—at least, I knew them once—to open it would seem like a breach of confidence. Your aunt Ann sealed the will herself in my presence, after I had read it. 'Don't let it be opened until my death,' she said, as she handed it to me. And so, you see, I should not like to do it."
"Of course not," readily spoke Frank. "I could not wish you to do so. Perhaps, uncle, you will, as you say, recollect more when you have slept upon it."
"Ay, perhaps so. I have an idea, mind you, Frank, that it was a very good slice; a substantial sum."
"What should you call substantial?" asked Frank.
"Two or three thousand pounds."
"I do hope it was!" returned Frank, his face beaming. "I could move the world with that."
But the major did not return the smile. Sundry experiences of his own were obtruding themselves on his memory.
"We are all apt to think so, my boy. But no one knows, until they try it, how quickly a sum of ready-money melts. Whilst you are saying I'll do this with it, or I'll do that—hey, presto! it is gone. And you sit looking blankly at your empty hands, and wonder what you've spent it in."