army's desk! Why,
hang it all, it's my property.'

'We shall see about that after we've broken it open,' I answered grimly.
'Here, this screw-driver will do. The back's not strong. Now, your help,
Mr. Hayes--one, two, three; we can prise it apart between us.'

Lord Southminster rushed up and tried to prevent us. But Lady Georgina,
seizing both wrists, held him tight as in a vice with her dear skinny
old hands. He writhed and struggled all in vain: he could not escape
her. 'I've often spanked you, Bertie,' she cried, 'and if you attempt to
interfere, I'll spank you again; that's the long and the short of it!'

He broke from her and rushed out, to call the police, I believe, and
prevent our desecration of pooah Marmy's property.

[Illustration: VICTORY.]

Inside the first shell were several locked drawers, and two or three
open ones, out of one of which Harold had fished the false will.
Instinct taught me somehow that the central drawer on the left-hand side
was the compartment behind which lay the secret receptacle. I prised it
apart and peered about inside it. Presently I saw a slip-panel, which I
touched with one finger. The pigeon-hole flew open and disclosed a
narrow slit I clutched at something--the will! Ho, victory! the will! I
raised it aloft with a wild shout. Not a doubt of it! The real, the
genuine document!

We turned it over and read it. It was my own fair copy, written at
Florence, and bearing all the small marks of authenticity about it which
I had pointed out to Mr. Hayes as wanting to the forged and impounded
document. Fortunately, Lady Georgina and four of the servants had stood
by throughout this scene, and had watched our demeanour, as well as Lord
Southminster's.

We turned next to the signatures. The principal one was clearly Mr.
Ashurst's-- I knew it at once--his legible fat hand, 'Marmaduke Courtney
Ashurst.' And then the witnesses? They fairly took our breath away.

'Why, Higginson's sister isn't one of them at all,' Mr. Hayes cried,
astonished.

A flush of remorse came over me. I saw it all now. I had misjudged that
poor woman! She had the misfortune to be a rogue's sister, but, as
Harold had said, was herself a most respectable and blameless person.
Higginson must have forged her name to the document; that was all; and
she had naturally sworn that she never signed it. He knew her honesty.
It was a master-stroke of rascality.

'The other one isn't here, either,' I exclaimed, growing