The next morning the controversy was settled by one of the Daily Record’s characteristic ‘scoops.’  In the nature of the case, such controversies, if they are not settled quickly, settle themselves quickly; they cannot be prolonged.  But it was the Daily Record that settled this one.  The Daily Record came out with a copy of the will of Priam Farll, in which, after leaving a pound a week for life to his valet, Henry Leek, Priam Farll bequeathed the remainder of his fortune to the nation for the building and up-keep of a Gallery of Great Masters.  Priam Farll’s own collection of great masters, gradually made by him in that inexpensive manner which is possible only to the finest connoisseurs, was to form the nucleus of the Gallery.  It comprised, said the Record, several Rembrandts, a Velasquez, six Vermeers, a Giorgione, a Turner, a Charles, two Cromes, a Holbein. (After Charles the Record put a note of interrogation, itself being uncertain of the name.) The pictures were in Paris—­had been for many years.  The leading idea of the Gallery was that nothing not absolutely first-class should be admitted to it.  The testator attached two conditions to the bequest.  One was that his own name should be inscribed nowhere in the building, and the other was that none of his own pictures should be admitted to the gallery.  Was not this sublime?  Was not this true British pride?  Was not this magnificently unlike the ordinary benefactor of his country?  The Record was in a position to assert that Priam Farll’s estate would amount to about a hundred and forty thousand pounds, in addition to the value of the pictures.  After that, was anybody going to argue that he ought not to be buried in the National Valhalla, a philanthropist so royal and so proudly meek?

The opposition gave up.

Priam Farll grew more and more disturbed in his fortress at the Grand Babylon Hotel.  He perfectly remembered making the will.  He had made it about seventeen years before, after some champagne in Venice, in an hour of anger against some English criticisms of his work.  Yes, English criticisms!  It was his vanity that had prompted him to reply in that manner.  Moreover, he was quite young then.  He remembered the youthful glee with which he had appointed his next-of-kin, whoever they might be, executors and trustees of the will.  He remembered his cruel joy in picturing their disgust at being compelled to carry out the terms of such a will.  Often, since, he had meant to destroy the will; but carelessly he had always omitted to do so.  And his collection and his fortune had continued to increase regularly and mightily, and now—­well, there the thing was!  Duncan Farll had found the will.  And Duncan Farll would be the executor and trustee of that melodramatic testament.

He could not help smiling, serious as the situation was.

During that day the thing was settled; the authorities spoke; the word went forth.  Priam Farll was to be buried in Westminster Abbey on the Thursday.  The dignity of England among artistic nations had been saved, partly by the heroic efforts of the Daily Record, and partly by the will, which proved that after all Priam Farll had had the highest interests of his country at heart.