tion to herself, and said: "I have brought Mr. Raymond
up-stairs to see you, Mr. Harwell. He has been so kind as to accede to
my wishes in regard to the completion of the manuscript now before you."

Slowly Mr. Harwell rose, wiped his pen, and put it away; manifesting,
however, a reluctance in doing so that proved this interference to be
in reality anything but agreeable to him. Observing this, I did not wait
for him to speak, but took up the pile of manuscript, arranged in one
mass on the table, saying:

"This seems to be very clearly written; if you will excuse me, I will
glance over it and thus learn something of its general character."

He bowed, uttered a word or so of acquiescence, then, as Mary left the
room, awkwardly reseated himself, and took up his pen.

Instantly the manuscript and all connected with it vanished from my
thoughts; and Eleanore, her situation, and the mystery surrounding
this family, returned upon me with renewed force. Looking the secretary
steadily in the face, I remarked:

"I am very glad of this opportunity of seeing you a moment alone, Mr.
Harwell, if only for the purpose of saying----"

"Anything in regard to the murder?"

"Yes," I began.

"Then you must pardon me," he respectfully but firmly replied. "It is
a disagreeable subject which I cannot bear to think of, much less
discuss."

Disconcerted and, what was more, convinced of the impossibility of
obtaining any information from this man, I abandoned the attempt; and,
taking up the manuscript once more, endeavored to master in some small
degree the nature of its contents. Succeeding beyond my hopes, I opened
a short conversation with him in regard to it, and finally, coming to
the conclusion I could accomplish what Miss Leavenworth desired, left
him and descended again to the reception room.

When, an hour or so later, I withdrew from the house, it was with the
feeling that one obstacle had been removed from my path. If I failed
in what I had undertaken, it would not be from lack of opportunity of
studying the inmates of this dwelling.

XVI. THE WILL OF A MILLIONAIRE

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to Heaven."
All's Well that Ends Well.

THE next morning's _Tribune_ contained a synopsis of Mr. Leavenworth's
will. Its provisions were a surprise to me; for, while the bulk of his
immense estate was, according to the general understanding, bequeathed
to his niece, Mary, it app