But Dr. Bryerly and Mr. Grimston, still talking together, began to walk
slowly from the window, and the former said in his peculiar grim tones--
'I beg pardon, Miss Ruthyn; perhaps you would be so good as to show us
which of the cabinets in this room your late lamented father pointed out as
that to which this key belongs.'
I indicated the oak cabinet.
'Very good, ma'am--very good,' said Doctor Bryerly, as he fumbled the key
into the lock.
Cousin Monica could not forbear murmuring--
'Dear! what a brute!'
The junior partner, with his dumpy hands in his pocket, poked his fat face
over Mr. Grimston's shoulder, and peered into the cabinet as the door
opened.
The search was not long. A handsome white paper enclosure, neatly tied up
in pink tape, and sealed with large red seals, was inscribed in my dear
father's hand:--'Will of Austin R. Ruthyn, of Knowl.' Then, in smaller
characters, the date, and in the corner a note--'This will was drawn from
my instructions by Gaunt, Hogg, and Hatchett, Solicitors, Great Woburn
Street, London, A.R.R.'
'Let _me_ have a squint at that indorsement, please, gentlemen,' half
whispered the unpleasant person who represented my uncle Silas.
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