The end came suddenly, and with a shock that stunned me, for all I was so well prepared for it.  A few brief moments of dreadful agony, and the good man who had been more than a father to me was no more.  Never once during his long illness had his sister Lady Cludde visited him; neither she nor her husband accompanied his remains to the grave:  and when we had left him in the churchyard of St. Mary and returned to the house, I was roused for a little from my stupor by the sight of Sir Richard among those assembled to hear Mr. Vetch read the will.

A great wave of anger surged within me when I saw him sitting in my father’s chair, his fat hands folded upon his paunch, and his bleared eyes rolling a quizzing glance round upon the little company.  So enraged was I that I took little heed of Mr. Vetch at the table, and heard nothing of what he said as he drew from his pocket a long paper sealed and tied with tape.  No doubt I watched him untie the knots and break the seal, and spread the document on the table before him; no doubt I heard his cry of amazement, and saw Sir Richard and the few friends of my father who were present rise from their seats and crowd about him; but I remained listless in my place until a shriek from Mistress Pennyquick woke me to a sense that something was amiss.  Then I heard Sir Richard say, in his loud blustrous tones: 

“Then my lady inherits?”

“Not so fast, not so fast, Sir Richard,” said Mr. Vetch in a tone of great perturbation.  “She is, it is true, the heir-at-law, but our departed friend left his house, messuage, farm and all its appurtenances to his adopted son Humphrey Bold, with an annuity of fifty pounds per annum to his faithful housekeeper Rebecca Pennyquick:  I took down his instructions with his own hand, and engrossed the will myself.

“There is some mistake, gentlemen, something inexplicable.  I must ask you, in all fairness, to postpone your judgment of the matter until I have made search in my office.  Never in my forty years’ experience has so untoward a thing happened, and I must beg of you to give me time to solve the mystery.”

“I will wait on you tomorrow, Mr. Attorney,” says Sir Richard.  “Meanwhile I claim this property for my Lady Cludde.”

And with that he takes his hat and stick and marches from the room.

The neighbors followed him, giving me commiserating glances, one or two of them shaking me by the hand and speaking words of condolence.  Mr. Vetch remained for a time staring at the paper before him; then he folded it and came to me.

“Some devilish prank,” he said hurriedly.  “Never fear, my lad; all will come right.  I will see you tomorrow, my boy.”

And then he too went, leaving me alone with Mistress Pennyquick, who had done nothing for some while but sob and rock herself to and fro on her chair.

“That wicked man!” she moaned.  “But he will be punished—­he will be punished, Humphrey.  What does the good Book say about them that despoil widows and orphans?  Oh, my poor master!”