“Shall I read it, or would you just like to know the particulars?  It is very short.”

“Oh, let us know just roughly.”  Mrs. Wickham was still eager.

“Well, Miss Wickham left one hundred pounds to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, and one hundred pounds to the General Hospital at Tunbridge Wells, and the entire residue of her fortune to her nephew, Mr. James Wickham.”

Mrs. Wickham drew her breath sharply.  Once more she looked at her late aunt’s companion, but nothing was to be read in that calm face.  She was a designing minx, none the less.  But she did yield her a grudging admiration, for her self-control in the shipwreck of all her hopes.  Now they could have their car.  Oh, what couldn’t they have!  She felt she had earned every penny of it in that last dreadful half hour.

“And Miss Marsh?” she heard her husband ask.

“Miss Marsh is not mentioned.”

Somehow, Nora managed a smile.  “I could hardly expect to be.  At the time that will was drawn I had been Miss Wickham’s companion for only a few months.”

“That is why I asked whether you knew of any later will,” said Mr. Wynne almost sadly.  “When I talked to Miss Wickham on the subject she said her wish was to make adequate provision for you after her death.  I think she had spoken to you about it.”

“Yes, she had.”

“She mentioned three hundred a year.”

“That was very kind of her.”  Nora’s voice broke a little.  “I’m glad she wished to do something for me.”

“Oddly enough,” continued the solicitor, “she spoke about it to Dr. Evans only a few days before she died.”

“Perhaps there is a later will somewhere,” said Wickham.

“I honestly don’t think so.”

“Oh, I’m sure there isn’t,” affirmed Nora.

“Dr. Evans was talking to Miss Wickham about Miss Marsh.  She was completely tired out and he wanted Miss Wickham to have a professional nurse.  She told him then that I had the will and that she had left Miss Marsh amply provided for.”

“That isn’t legal, of course,” said Mrs. Wickham decidedly.

“What isn’t?”

“I mean no one could force us—­I mean the will stands as it is, doesn’t it?”

“Certainly it does.”

“I’m afraid it’s a great disappointment to you, Miss Marsh,” Wickham said, not unkindly.

“I never count my chickens before they’re hatched.”  This time Nora smiled easily and naturally.  The worst was over now.

“It would be very natural if Miss Marsh were disappointed in the circumstances.  I think she’d been led to expect——­” Mr. Wynne’s voice was almost pleading.

Mrs. Wickham detected a certain disapproval in the tone.  She hastened to justify herself.  He might still be useful.  When the estate was once settled, they would of course put everything in the hands of their London solicitor.  But it would be better not to antagonize him for the moment.