office, or in the New
York office, so I assumed Mr. Randolph had it in his possession. But
it seems he thought it was here, all the time. Only this morning we
discovered our mutual error, and Mr. Randolph concluded it must be in
Mr. Crawford's safety deposit box at the bank in New York. So Mr. Philip
Crawford hurried through his administration papers--he is to be executor
of the estate--and went in to get it from the bank. But he has just
returned with the word that it wasn't there. So we've no idea where it
is."

"Oh, well," said I, "since he hadn't yet made the new will he had in
mind, everything belongs to Miss Lloyd."

"That's just the point," said Hall, his face taking on a despairing
look. "If we don't find that will, she gets nothing!"

"How's that?" I said.

"Why, she's really not related to the Crawfords. She's a niece of Joseph
Crawford's wife. So in the absence of a will his property will all go to
his brother Philip, who is his legal heir."

"Oho!" I exclaimed. "This is a new development. But the will will turn
up."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure of it," returned Hall, but his anxious face showed
anything but confidence in his own words.

"But," I went on, "didn't Philip Crawford object to his brother's giving
all his fortune to Miss Lloyd?"

"It didn't matter if he did. Nobody could move Joseph Crawford's
determination. And I fancy Philip didn't make any great disturbance
about it. Of course, Mr. Joseph had a right to do as he chose with his
own, and the will gave Philip a nice little sum, any way. Not much,
compared to the whole fortune, but, still, a generous bequest."

"What does Mr. Randolph say?"

"He's completely baffled. He doesn't know what to think."

"Can it have been stolen?"

"Why, no; who would steal it? I only fear he may have destroyed it
because he expected to make a different one. In that case, Florence is
penniless, save for such bounty as Philip Crawford chooses to bestow on
her."

I didn't like the tone in which Hall said this. It was distinctly
aggrieved, and gave the impression that Florence Lloyd, penniless,
was of far less importance than Miss Lloyd, the heiress of her uncle's
millions.

"But he would doubtless provide properly for her," I said.

"Oh, yes, properly. But she would find herself in a very different
position, dependent on his generosity, from what she would be as sole
heir to her uncle's fortune."

I looked steadily at the man. Although not well acquainted wit