there; and a soft glow of ruby velvet from
the furniture and hangings made itself seen
in the dimness, where some salient fold
caught the light. At one end of the room
was a large swing glass, that reflected the
blinking lamp and the rich dark curtains
touched here and there with light, and the
bed with its vague, ghastly burden covered
with a large, white sheet.

Veronica, when her eyes encountered this
object in the glass, stopped, shuddering, and
clung to Barletti's arm. He, too, was not
unmoved by the scene, and he pressed her
hand silently.

"No one watches here?" said Mr. Frost,
in a subdued voice, which yet seemed to
startle the solemn silence.

"No one, sir. But I have the key of the
chamber. And, as for that, not one of the
domestics would venture to come here
now, if the room was all unguarded, and
unreckoned gold was scattered on the
floor."

In silence they proceeded to open the
desk: Mr. Frost holding the light while
Paul unlocked it, opened an inner drawer,
and took out a small folded paper.

"You recognise this as being the paper
which your master told you was his will,
and made you sign? And you see that as
far as you can tell, it has been quite
undisturbed since you put it there by his
command last night?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you, prince?" asked Mr. Frost,
handing the will to Barletti.

The latter bent forward and examined
it without touching it. Veronica barely
glanced at it for a moment, and then her
gaze returned to that white, ghastly picture
in the mirror, which seemed to fascinate
her.

"I believe it to be the same paper which
he had in his hand last night," said Barletti,
speaking scarcely above his breath.

Mr. Frost unfolded the will and read it
silently.

It bore date the seventeenth of February,
and was expressed in short and clear
sentences. It bequeathed the whole of Sir
John Tallis Gale's personal property
absolutely to his " beloved wife" during her
life-time; and, in case of her death before
the death of the testator, to her only
surviving niece, Maud Hilda Desmond. There
was no subsequent codicil, and no mention
of any one else, save a legacy of two
thousand pounds to Mr. Adam Lane, Sir John's
agent, who was also appointed sole
executor.

"What does it say?" whispered Barletti.

"What it says is of less consequence than
the date it bears. If your cousin's
marriage was a good one, this will is mere waste
paper."

Then, turning to Paul, Mr. Frost added,
"In accordance with Lady Gale's desire, I
shall by-and-bye, in your presence, seal up
this document, and retain it in my possession
until we all arrive in England. You
understand that I am responsible for its safety
until then."

Paul answered after a little grave
deliberation. " Of course, sir, I desire to do my
duty to Sir John. I hope you will not take
it per male— that you will not be offended
— if I say that I shall write to Mr. Lane, the
agent of Sir John. I do not know any of
my master's family. But I shall tell Mr.
Lane that I am ready to bear testimony if I
am needed."

"That is quite right, Paul," answered
Mr. Frost, a little stiffly. " You may be sure
that everything will be done in a proper
manner."

Then Paul proceeded to replace the empty
drawer, and to re-lock the desk. And, as
he did so, making no sound in the process,
the others stood by in profound silence. It
was a silence truly of death. Death was
there in a tangible shape beneath the cold
white linen that was slightly raised with
an outline at once terribly unmistakable
and terribly indistinct.

Veronica had not dared to look directly
at the bed, but she continued to stare at its
image in the glass. All her old horror
and dread of death seemed to be stealing
over her. The factitious excitement which
had given her courage to enter the room
was fading fast. Her head throbbed,
and her eyes were hot, and she felt dizzy.
The impression of the awful scene during
Sir John's last moments seemed to come
back to her with the sickening terror of a
bad dream.

In coming away from the desk, Paul
accidentally gave a slight touch to the great
glass, and it instantly swung to a different
angle: making one who looked into it giddy
with a sudden vague sense of insecurity.

As the mirror swung slowly down, it
seemed to Veronica's eyes as though the
white form on the bed were stirring and
rising,

"He moves, he moves, he is not dead, he
is moving!" she cried. And with a stifled
shriek that died in her throat, she burst
from Cesare, who was scarcely less