property. Of
course my mother knew nothing of the kind; but in calling to mind
everything she could remember, she recollected that a few months back
she had seen my father address and send a large sealed envelope to his
brother, and as this would have been just about the time when Nicholas
asserted that the reconciliation had taken place, it seemed possible
that this very letter might have contained the will. The document, I
should say, was witnessed by a housekeeper of my uncle's who had since
died, and by a sea captain who had often stayed at Stonebank, but whose
vessel had foundered in a storm, with all hands. The fact that both of
the witnesses were dead seemed suspicious, but there was no flaw in the
signatures, and Nicholas had a witness who could prove that my father
and Rhodes, the master-mariner, had met at Stonebank on the day the
will was signed."

"Then what is going to be done?" I asked.

"What can be done?" returned Miles, with a shrug of his shoulders. "My
uncle poses as a model of forbearance, and says he will allow us to
remain in possession of the whole estate till the beginning of the New
Year, at which date the property will be duly divided."

"At least you'll have the old house," I remarked, not knowing what else
to say.

"Yes; but look here, Sylvester," my friend exclaimed. "We shall never
be able to live on at Coverthorne as we're doing now if half the
property is taken away from us. I believe Uncle Nicholas knows that,"
continued the speaker excitedly. "He wants to force us to leave, and
then he'll raise or borrow money from somewhere, and so come to be
owner of the whole place. He's a bad man--you can see it in his
face--and how ever he induced my father to make the will I can't
imagine."

"I can't either," I replied. "I disliked your uncle the first time I
saw him. I believe he's a villain."

A sudden rush of boys towards the spot where we stood talking put an
end to our conversation, but the substance of it was constantly
recurring to my mind. I had quite made up my mind that Nicholas
Coverthorne was an unscrupulous rascal, and a few days later an
incident happened which not only tended to increase my dislike of the
man, but to invest him and his doings with a certain sinister air of
mystery.

Dr. Bagley had been expecting a parcel to be left by the coach at Round
Green, and knowing that Miles was accustomed to horses, he asked him to
drive over with the pony and trap and