She dictated the last momentous sentence of
the will (from the rough draft in her own possession)
in these words:

"The whole residue of my estate, after payment
of my burial expenses and my lawful debts,
I give and bequeath to Rear-Admiral Arthur
Everard Bartram, my Executor aforesaid; to be
by him applied to such uses as he may think
fit.

"Signed, sealed, and delivered this third day
of November, eighteen hundred and forty-seven,
by Noel Vanstone, the within-named testator,
as and for his last Will and Testament, in the
presence of us——"

"Is that all?" asked Noel Vanstone, in
astonishment.

"That is enough, sir, to bequeath your fortune
to the admiral; and, therefore, that is all. Now
let us go back to the case which we have
supposed already. Your widow pays her shilling,
and sees this will. There is the Combe-Raven
money left to Admiral Bartram; with a declaration
in plain words that it is his, to use as he
likes. When she sees this, what does she do?
She sets her trap for the admiral. He is a
bachelor, and he is an old man. Who is to protect
him against the arts of this desperate woman?
Protect him yourself, sir, with a few more strokes
of that pen which has done such wonders already.
You have left him this legacy, in your will—
which your wife sees. Take the legacy away
again, in a letter—which is a dead secret between
the admiral and you. Put the will and the letter
under one cover, and place them in the admiral's
possession, with your written directions to him
to break the seal on the day of your death. Let
the will say what it says now; and let the letter
(which is your secret and his) tell him the truth.
Say that in leaving him your fortune, you leave
it with the request that he will take his legacy
with one hand from you, and give it with the
other to his nephew George. Tell him that your
trust in this matter rests solely on your
confidence in his honour, and on your belief in his
affectionate remembrance of your father and
yourself. You have known the admiral since
you were a boy. He has his little whims and
oddities—but he is a gentleman from the crown
of his head to the sole of his foot; and he is
utterly incapable of proving false to a trust in
his honour, reposed by his dead friend. Meet
the difficulty boldly, by such a stratagem as this;
and you save these two helpless men from your
wife's snares, one by means of the other. Here,
on one side, is your will, which gives the fortune
to the admiral, and sets her plotting accordingly.
And there, on the other side, is your letter,
which privately puts the money into the nephew's
hands!"

The malicious dexterity of this combination
was exactly the dexterity which Noel Vanstone
was most fit to appreciate. He tried to express
his approval and admiration in words. Mrs.
Lecount held up her hand warningly, and closed
his lips.

"Wait, sir, before you express your opinion,"
she went on. "Half the difficulty is all that we
have conquered yet. Let us say, the admiral has
made the use of your legacy which you have
privately requested him to make of it. Sooner
or later, however well the secret may be kept,
your wife will discover the truth. What follows
that discovery? She lays siege to Mr. George.
All you have done is to leave him the money by
a roundabout way. There he is, after an interval
of time, as much at her mercy as if you had
openly mentioned him in your will. What is the
remedy for this? The remedy is to mislead her,
if we can, for the second time—to set up an
obstacle between her and the money, for the
protection of your cousin George. Can you guess
for yourself, Mr. Noel, what is the most promising
obstacle we can put in her way?"

He shook his head. Mrs. Lecount smiled, and
startled him into close attention by laying her
hand on his arm.

"Put a Woman in her way, sir!" she whispered
in her wiliest tones. "We don't believe in
that fascinating beauty of hers—whatever you
may do. Our lips don't burn to kiss those smooth
cheeks. Our arms don't long to be round that
supple waist. We see through her smiles and her
graces, and her stays and her padding—she can't
fascinate us! Put a woman in her way, Mr.
Noel! Not a woman in my helpless situation,
who is only a servant—but a woman with the
authority and the jealousy of a Wife. Make it a
condition, in your letter to the admiral, that if Mr.
George is a bachelor at the time of your death,
he shall marry within a certain time afterwards—
or he shall not have the legacy. Suppose he
remains single, in spite of your condition—who is
to have the money then? Put a woman in your
wife's way, sir, once more—and leave the fortune,
in that case, to the married sister of your cousin
George."

She paused. Noel Vanstone again attempted
to express his opinion; and again Mrs.
Lecount's hand extinguished him in silence.

"If you approve, Mr. Noel," she said, "I will
take your approval for granted. If you object,
I will meet your objection before it is out of
your mouth. You may say:—Suppose this
condition is sufficient to answer the purpose, why
hide it in a private letter to the admiral? Why
not openly write it down with my cousin's name
attached to it, in the will? Only for one reason,
sir. Only because the secret way is the sure
way, with such a woman as your wife. The
more secret you can keep your intentions, the
more time you force her to waste in finding them
out for herself. That time which she loses, is
time gained from her treachery by the admiral—
time gained by Mr. George (if he is still a
bachelor) for his undisturbed choice of a lady—
time gained, for her own security, by the object
of his choice, who might otherwise be the first
object of your wife's suspicion and your wife's