will likely to lead to unforeseen complications, but
the sort of will that a man in the first flush of marriage often does make,
and there is no stopping him. Your father had almost every quality, but he
was not businesslike--if I may say so with respect. However, I confess that
for the present I see no difficulties. Of course the death duties will have
to be paid, but your father always kept a considerable amount of money at
call. When I say 'considerable,' I mean several thousands. That was a point
on which he and I had many discussions."

Mr. Foulger glanced around with satisfaction. Already the prospect of legal
business and costs had brought about a change in his official demeanour of
an adviser truly bereaved by the death of a client. He saw the young girl,
gazing fiercely at the carpet, suddenly begin to weep. This phenomenon, to
which he was not unaccustomed, did not by itself disturb him; but the face
of Miss Ingate gave him strange apprehensions, which reached a climax when
Miss Ingate, obviously not at all at ease, muttered:

"There is a later will, Mr. Foulger. It was made last year."

"I see," he breathed, scarcely above a whisper.

He thought he did see. He thought he understood why he had been kept
waiting, why Mrs. Moze pretended to be ill, why the girl had frowned, why
the naively calm Miss Ingate was in such a state of nerves. The explanation
was that he was not wanted. The explanation was that Mr. Moze had changed
his solicitor. His face hardened, for he and his uncle between them had
"acted" for the Moze family for over seventy years.

He rose from the chair.

"Then I need not trouble you any longer," he said in a firm tone, and
turned with real dignity to leave.

He was exceedingly astonished when with one swift movement Audrey rose, and
flashed like a missile to the door, and stood with her back to it. The fact
was that Audrey had just remembered her vow never again to be afraid of
anybody. When Miss Ingate with extraordinary agility also jumped up and
approached him, he apprehended, recalling rumours of Miss Ingate's advanced
feminism, that the fate of an anti-suffragette Cabinet Minister might be
awaiting him, and he prepared his defence.

"You mustn't go," said Miss Ingate.

"You are my solicitor, whatever mother may say, and you mustn't go," added
Audrey in a soft voice.

The man was entranced. It occurred to him that he would have a tale to tell
and to re-tell at his club for years,