"If there were any flaw in the will," he began—and the very mention of the cruel words almost rent his heart in two—"could you detect it, by reading the will over?"
"Yes," replied Flood.
"Then let us go at once, and set this awful uncertainty at rest."
He had risen from his seat so eagerly and hastily that Mr. Flood scarcely understood.
"Go where?" he asked.
"To Doctors' Commons. We can see it there by paying a shilling."
"Oh—ay, I'll go if you like. But I must have a wash first, and some refreshment. I have had neither since leaving Paris, and the crossing—ugh! I don't want to think of it."
Mr. Chattaway controlled his impatience in the best manner he was able. At length they were fairly on their way—to the very spot for which Chattaway had been making once before that morning.
Difficulties surmounted, Flood was soon deep in the perusal of Squire Trevlyn's will. He read it over slowly and thoughtfully, eyes and head bent, all his attention absorbed in the task. At its conclusion, he turned and looked full at Mr. Chattaway.
"You are perfectly safe," he said. "The will is right and legal in every point."