evident that the old gardener, for years insane, had been so
influenced by Miss Merrick's death that he had wandered into
the stables where he received his death blow. When he regained
consciousness the mania had vanished, and in a shadowy way he could
remember and repeat that last scene of the tragedy that had deprived
him of his reason. The story was logical enough, and both Mr. Watson
and John Merrick believed it.

"Tom Bradley was a level-headed fellow until he fell in love with your
sister," said the lawyer to his companion. "But after that he would
not listen to reason, and perhaps he had a premonition of his own
sudden death, for he made a will bequeathing all he possessed to his
sweetheart. I drew up the will myself, and argued against the folly of
it; but he had his own way. Afterward, in the face of death, I believe
he became more sensible, and altered his will."

"Yet James' story may all be the effect of a disordered mind," said
Uncle John.

"I do not think, so; but unless he has destroyed the paper in his
madness, we shall he able to find it among his possessions."

With this idea in mind, Mr. Watson ordered the servants to remove the
gardener's body to a room in the carriage-house, and as soon as this
was done he set to work to search for the paper, assisted by John
Merrick.

"It was a telegraph blank, he said."

"Yes."

"Then we cannot mistake it, if we find any papers at all," declared
the lawyer.

The most likely places in James' room for anything to be hidden were a
small closet, in which were shelves loaded with odds and ends, and an
old clothes-chest that was concealed underneath the bed.

This last was first examined, but found to contain merely an
assortment of old clothing. Having tossed these in a heap upon the
floor the lawyer begun an examination of the closet, the shelves
promising well because of several bundles of papers they contained.

While busy over these, he heard Uncle John say, quietly:

"I've got it."

The lawyer bounded from the closet. The little man had been searching
the pockets of the clothing taken from the chest, and from a faded
velvet coat he drew out the telegraph blank.

"Is it the will?" asked the lawyer, eagerly.

"Read it yourself," said Uncle John.

Mr. Watson put on his glasses.

"Yes; this is Tom Bradley's handwriting, sure enough. The will is
brief, but it will hold good in law. Listen: I bequeath to Jane
Merrick, my affianced bride, the posses