The next morning Carmen nerved herself to the task.  With his keys in hand she went alone into the library and opened his writing-desk.  Everything was in perfect order; letters and papers filed and labeled, and neatly arranged in drawers and pigeonholes.  There lay his letter-book as he had last used it, and there lay fresh memoranda of his projects and engagements.  She found in one of the drawers some letters of her own, mostly notes, and most of them written before her marriage.  In another drawer were some bundles of letters, a little yellow with age, endorsed with the name of “Margaret.”  She shut the drawer without looking at them.  She continued to draw papers from the pigeon-holes and glance at them.  Most of them related to closed transactions.  At length she drew out one that instantly fixed her attention.  It was endorsed, “Last Will and Testament.”  She looked first at the date at the end—­it was quite recent—­and then leaned back in her chair and set herself deliberately to read it.

The document was long and full of repetitions and technicalities, but the purport of it was plain.  As she read on she was at first astonished, then she was excited to trembling, and felt herself pale and faint; but when she had finished and fully comprehended it her pretty face was distorted with rage.  The great bulk of the property was not for her.  She sprang up and paced the floor.  She came back and took up the document with a motion of tearing it in pieces.  No—­it would be better to burn it.  Of course there must be another will deposited in the safe.  Henderson had told her so.  It was drawn up shortly after their marriage.  It could not be worse for her than this.  She lighted the gas-jet by the fireplace, and held the paper in her hand.  Then a thought struck her.  What if somebody knew of this will, and its execution could be proved!  She looked again at the end.  It was signed and sealed.  There were the names of two witnesses.  One was the name of their late butler, who had been long in Henderson’s service, and who had died less than a month ago.  The other name was Thomas Mavick.  Evidently the will had been signed recently, on some occasion when Mavick was in the house.  And Henderson’s lawyer probably knew it also!

She folded the document carefully, put it back in the pigeon-hole, locked the desk, and rang the bell for her carriage.  She was ready when the carriage came to the door, and told the coachman to drive to the office of Mr. Sage in Nassau Street.  Mr. Sage had been for many years Henderson’s most confidential lawyer.

He received Carmen in his private office, with the subdued respect due to her grief and the sudden tragedy that had overtaken her.  He was a man well along in years, a small man, neat in his dress, a little formal and precise in his manner, with a smoothly shaven face and gray eyes, keen, but not unkindly in expression.  He had the reputation, which he deserved, for great ability and integrity.  After the first salutations and words of condolence were spoken, Carmen said, “I have come to consult you, Mr. Sage, about my husband’s affairs.”