“I was there, sir,” said May, astonished at the uproar.

“Who else?”

“Helen was there for a little while.”

“Who else?”

“The doctor came at eleven o’clock.”

“The doctor didn’t steal the will.  Are you sure no one else came in afterwards?”

“Father Fabian administered the Holy Viaticum to my uncle.  After that, no one except Helen and myself were there.”

“Were you awake all the time?’

“I think not, sir.  I believe I slept about ten minutes.”

“Why didn’t you sleep ten years, May?” exclaimed the irritated lawyer.  “And you, Miss Stillinghast, please to state what occurred while your cousin slept.  I suppose you kept awake, as you have heavy interests at stake?”

“Mr. Fielding, this lady is my affianced wife; oblige me by assuming a more gentle tone,” said Walter Jerrold, taking his stand beside Helen.

“If she was your grandmother, sir, this matter must be sifted; and let me tell you, not only sifted here, but in open court, whither I shall carry it, unless the will is forthcoming.  What occurred, Miss Stillinghast, during the ten minutes that little fool slept?”

“Only this, sir,” said Helen, who felt supported by Mr. Jerrold’s protection; “my uncle roused himself a little, and told me to take some packages of paper out of the closet, and put them under the grate.  He said ’they were records of the past which he wished to perish with him.’”

“So—­so!” said the lawyer, significantly.

“But,” continued Helen, speaking in a clearer, and more assured tone, “I had just laid my hand on the knob to open the door, when he discovered that it was not May to whom he had been speaking, and in harsh tones he ordered me back, and commanded me to awaken May, and leave the room, which I did, for his terrible looks alarmed me so dreadfully that I could not remain.”

“And you, May?”

“I got out the papers, sir, as my uncle directed, and burnt them, as he desired.  Helen is right,” replied May.

“And what did you burn?”

“Papers.  Some in packages, and some in large envelopes, like that you hold in your hand,” replied May, calmly.

“Why the deuce, then, didn’t you put your head under the grate, and burn that too?  You have burnt the will, that’s clear:  the will which would have made you the richest woman in Maryland.  With those ’records of the past,’ which my old friend Stillinghast ought to have eaten up years ago, you have burnt up legacies to orphans, benefactions to widows, and many noble charities with it—­if it was burnt,” added Mr. Fielding.

“Mr. Fielding,” said May, lifting her hands with an earnest gesture, “If I thought I had through a careless, or heedless act, injured the interests of any living being, I should be truly miserable.  I cannot comprehend the charges, or the cause of your unusual and ungentle excitement.”