'It is soft down here,' she said. 'Is there nothing underneath, aunty?'
'There is a thin cushion. The baize is lined with cotton-wool,' Miss Clotilda replied. 'Some of the trays are the same.'
But Kathie kept feeling about.
'Neville,' she whispered, 'try if you can't pull up one corner. It seems loose. I'll keep aunty from looking.'
She turned to Miss Clotilda, who was already unwrapping some of the papers, with some little question about their contents. Neville bent down over the chest without speaking.
Suddenly he gave a sort of smothered cry, and the little girls looking round saw that he held something in his hand—two things indeed—two packets, not very thick, but long and flat, both sealed and both labelled in clear writing—the one 'Various papers, inventories, &c., to be looked over by David and Clotilda Powys,' and the other—oh, the other!
'My last Will and Testament.'
Neville could not speak. Kathie flew forward.
'Tell her!' he half whispered.