“Blanche was examining a small drawer in an old secretary, when she accidentally pressed her hand against one side, which yielded. She pressed harder, lad it continued to yield, until it was pushed back several inches. On withdrawing this pressure, the side returned to its place. She then tried to see how far it could be forced in. As soon as it had passed a certain point, a secret drawer, set in vertically, sprung up, and from the side, which fell open, the will dropped out.”
“It is singular,” said I, “that it should come to light just at this time.”
“It is Providential, no doubt,” Mrs. Montgomery remarked.
“What course will you pursue?” I inquired.
“My first step will be to recall Mr. Wallingford.”
“I must take the liberty of a friend, and object to that,” said I.
“On what ground?”
“This will may be worth the paper on which it is written, and no more. If the legatee have no relatives, you stand just where you stood before, and will require the evidence as to identity for which Mr. Wallingford is now in search. Oh, no, Mrs. Montgomery; he must not be recalled.”
The lady mused for a little while, and then said—
“Perhaps you are right, Doctor.”