‘Be quiet, you young jackanapes!’ exclaimed Mr Carver testily; and then, seeing the ludicrous side of the matter, he joined in the younger man’s mirth with equal heartiness.
‘But why,’ said Eleanor, still serious, and dwelling upon the mystery—‘why did not uncle fold the letter in the way he wished it to be read?’
‘Well, madam,’ Mr Slimm explained, ‘you see in that case the letter would have adapted itself to the folds so readily, that, had it fallen into a stranger’s hand, he would have discovered the secret at once. Your uncle must have remembered the letter he founded his upon, and how easily he discovered that. By folding this paper in the ordinary way, improper curiosity was baffled.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Eleanor mused. ‘Anyway, thank heaven, we have solved the mystery, and we are free at last!’
‘Don’t look so serious, darling,’ Edgar said brightly. ‘It is all ours now, to do what we like with. How happy we shall be!’
‘Ahem!’ coughed Mr Bates ominously, the only remark which, by the way, he had made during the scene.
‘Bless me, Bates!’ ejaculated Mr Carver in his abrupt way. ‘Really, I had quite forgotten you.—Shake hands, Bates! Let me shake hands with my future partner.’
‘Begging your pardon, sir, I think not. You’—reproachfully—‘seem to have forgotten the will. Mr Morton’s last testament left this property to Miss Wakefield—this money is part of his estate.’
Mr Carver groaned and sank back in his chair. It was too true. Mr Morton’s last will devised his estate to Miss Wakefield, and this treasure was hers beyond the shadow of a doubt.