As I stood looking at the drawer, a sudden thought flashed through my mind, and I pressed my hand against the other side.  It began to yield!  I pressed harder, and up sprung a corresponding secret receptacle, from which a paper fell out.  A hard substance rattled on the solid wood.  It was a gold locket, tied with a piece of blue ribbon; and attached, with a seal, to the folded paper.

It was some moments before a hand reached forth to lift the document.  It was at length taken up by Mr. Wallingford.  As he did so, the locket swung free, and we saw that it contained a braid of dark hair.  Unfolding the paper, and stepping back to the light, he read, in a low, firm voice, as follows: 

“I, John Allen, being of sound mind, do make this as my last will and testament, revoking, at the same time, all other wills.  I give and bequeath all my property, real and personal, to my sister Flora, if living; or, if dead, to her legal heirs—­reserving only, for my wife, Theresa Garcia, in case she survive me, a legacy of five hundred dollars a year, to be continued during her natural life.  And I name as my executors, to carry out the provisions of this will, Doctor Edward-----and James Wilkinson, of the town of S----, State of Massachusetts.”

Then followed the date, which was recent, compared with that of the other wills, and the signatures of the testator and witnesses, all in due form.  The witnesses were men in our town, and well known to us all.

At the reading of her mother’s name, Mrs. Wallingford sat down quickly, and, covering her face, leaned over upon the centre table.  I saw that she was endeavoring to control a strong agitation.

I was the first to speak.

“The ways of Providence are past finding out,” said I.  “Let me congratulate you on this good fortune.”

As I spoke, Mrs. Wallingford rose from the table, and, going to her husband, placed her hands upon his arms, and looking up into his face, fondly and tearfully, said:—­

“Dear Henry!  For your sake, my heart is glad to-night.”

He laid the will down, as if it were a thing of little value, and kissing her, said:—­

“This cannot add to our happiness, Blanche, and may bring care and trouble.”

“Not more trouble than blessing,” she replied, “if rightfully used.”

The locket attached to the will excited our curious interest.  It was, we felt sure, the same that Captain Allen’s mother had sent to him by the hands of Jacob Perkins.  Doubtless, some memory of his mother, stirred by the sight of this locket, had caused him to revoke his former will, and execute this one in favor of his sister.  There was no room to question, for a moment, its genuineness.  It had all legal formality, and the men who witnessed the signature were living and well known to us all.  I was named as one of the executors.  So there was some perplexing business before me; for, in taking things as they were, it was not probable that the executors under the former will would be able, promptly, to give a satisfactory account of their trust, or to hand over the property in a shape acceptable to the right heirs.