women; but to whom? Suppose I were
to leave it to be divided among those who could advance irrefutable
proof that they had loved me! What a throwing over of reputation
there would be." Then a sudden memory of the girl by whom he had had
a child sprang upon him like something out of the dark. He wondered
for a moment what the child was like, and then he wrote leaving the
interest of his money to her, until his son, the child born in such
a year--he had some difficulty in fixing the date--came of age. She
should retain the use of the interest of twelve thousand pounds, and
at her death that sum should revert to the said child born in ----,
and if the said child were not living, his mother should become
possessor of the entire monies now invested in funds, to do with as
she pleased.

"That will do," he thought; "I dare say it isn't very legal, but it
is common sense and will be difficult to upset. Yes, and I will leave
all my books and furniture in Temple Gardens to Frank; I don't care
much about the fellow, but I had better leave it to him. And now,
what about witnesses? The policemen will do."

He found one in King's Bench Walk, another he met a little further
on, talking to a belated harlot, whom he willingly relinquished on
being invited to drink. Mike led the way at a run up the high steps,
the burly officers followed more leisurely.

"Come in," he cried, and they advanced into the room, their helmets
in their hands. "What will you take, whiskey or brandy?"

After some indecision both decided, as Mike knew they would, for the
former beverage. He offered them soda-water; but they preferred a
little plain water, and drank to his very good health. They were, as
before, garrulous to excess. Mike listened for some few minutes, so
as to avoid suspicion, and then said--

"Oh, by the way, I wrote out my will a night or two ago--not that I
want to die yet, but one never knows. Would you mind witnessing it?"

The policemen saw no objection; in a few moments the thing was done,
and they retired bowing, and the door closed on solitude and death.

Mike lay back in his chair reading the document. The fumes of the
whiskey he had drunk obscured his sense of purpose, and he allowed
his thoughts to wander; his eyes closed and he dozed, his head leaned
a little on one side. He dreamed, or rather he thought, for it was
hardly sleep, of the dear good women who had loved him; and he mused
over his folly in not taking one to wife a