"Mr. Denny, can you bear one more piece of news—one more link in this terrible chain of crime?"
"Yes," he replied slowly. "There can be nothing worse than this. Speak, my son—let us hear everything."
"I think, sir," said the young man reverently, "that I ought to thank God that He has enabled me to bring such knowledge as He has given me to your service."
Then after a brief pause he added:
"There is the will, sir."
With these words he held out a small bit of sheet glass about two inches square.
"Where?" cried Mr. Denny in amazement. "I see nothing."
"There it is—on that piece of glass. That dusky spot in the centre is a micro-photographic copy of your father's will."
"My son, my son, do not trifle with us in this our hour of trial."
"Far be it from me to do such a thing. Alma, will you please go to my room and bring down my lantern? And John, you may go and help Miss Denny. Bring a sheet from the spare bed also."