me of death."

"Give me a minute to sign it," I said--and rang to summon the witnesses.

Mrs. Mozeen answered the bell. Rothsay looked at her, as if he wished to
have my housekeeper put away as well as my will. From the first
moment when he had seen her, he conceived a great dislike to that good
creature. There was nothing, I am sure, personally repellent about her.
She was a little slim quiet woman, with a pale complexion and bright
brown eyes. Her movements were gentle; her voice was low; her decent
gray dress was adapted to her age. Why Rothsay should dislike her was
more than he could explain himself. He turned his unreasonable
prejudice into a joke--and said he hated a woman who wore slate colored
cap-ribbons!

I explained to Mrs. Mozeen that I wanted witnesses to the signature of
my will. Naturally enough--being in the room at the time--she asked if
she could be one of them.

I was obliged to say No; and not to mortify her, I gave the reason.

"My will recognizes what I owe to your good services," I said. "If
you are one of the witnesses, you will lose your legacy. Send up the
men-servants."

With her customary tact, Mrs. Mozeen expressed her gratitude silently,
by a look--and left the room.

"Why couldn't you tell that woman to send the servants, without
mentioning her legacy?" Rothsay asked. "My friend Lepel, you have done a
very foolish thing."

"In what way?"

"You have given Mrs. Mozeen an interest in your death."

It was impossible to make a serious reply to this ridiculous exhibition
of Rothsay's prejudice against poor Mrs. Mozeen.

"When am I to be murdered?" I asked. "And how is it to be done? Poison?"

"I'm not joking," Rothsay answered. "You are infatuated about your
housekeeper. When you spoke of her legacy, did you notice her eyes."

"Yes."

"Did nothing strike you?"

"It struck me that they were unusually well preserved eyes for a woman
of her age."

The appearance of the valet and the footman put an end to this idle
talk. The will was executed, and locked up. Our conversation turned on
Rothsay's travels by sea. The cruise had been in every way successful.
The matchless shores of the Mediterranean defied description; the
sailing of the famous yacht had proved to be worthy of her reputation;
and, to crown all, Rothsay had come back to England, in a fair way, for
the first time in his life, of making money.

"I have discovered a treasure," he announced.

"It _was_ a dirty littl