shall expect to find this house in readiness for our return.
Later, if Mrs. Quintard desires to visit us we shall be pleased to
receive her. But"--this to Mrs. Quintard herself--"you must come without
Clement and the kids."

Mrs. Quintard's rigid hand stole up to her throat.

"Clement is dying. He is failing hourly," she murmured. "He may not live
till morning."

Even Carlos was taken aback by this. "Oh, well!" said he, "we will give
you two days."

Mrs. Quintard gasped, then she walked straight up to him. "You will give
us all the time his condition requires and more, much more. He is the
real owner of this house, not you. My brother left a will bequeathing
it to him. You are my nephew's guests, and not he yours. As his
representative I entreat you and your wife to remain here until you can
find a home to your mind."

The silence seethed. Carlos had a temper of fire and so had his wife.
But neither spoke, till he had gained sufficient control over himself to
remark without undue rancour:

"I did not think you had the wit to influence your brother to this
extent; otherwise, I should have cut my travels short." Then harshly:
"Where is this will?"

"It will be produced." But the words faltered.

Carlos glanced at the man standing behind his wife; then back at Mrs.
Quintard.

"Wills are not scribbled off on deathbeds; or if they are, it needs
something more than a signature to legalize them. I don't believe
in this trick of a later will. Mr. Cavanagh"--here he indicated the
gentleman accompanying them--"has done my father's business for years,
and he assured me that the paper he holds in his pocket is the first,
last, and only expression of your brother's wishes. If you are in a
position to deny this, show us the document you mention; show us it at
once, or inform us where and in whose hands it can be found."

"That, for--for reasons I cannot give, I must refuse to do at present.
But I am ready to swear--"

A mocking laugh cut her short. Did it issue from his lips or from those
of his highstrung and unfeeling wife? It might have come from either;
there was cause enough.

"Oh!" she faltered, "may God have mercy!" and was sinking before their
eyes, when she heard her name, called from the threshold, and, looking
that way, saw Hetty beaming upon her, backed by a little figure with a
face so radiant that instinctively her hand went out to grasp the folded
sheet of paper Hetty was seeking to thrust upon her.