and hence
heir to the property.
The case had required the presence of my fair client, so she had made
the journey to Washington a week previous, where she visited an uncle,
and came out to D---- county to be present at the hearing.
It was necessary for me to remain in Virginia some little time on
account of other business, and it was arranged that I should see what
could be done towards effecting a sale of the real estate. Accordingly,
soon after the case had been decided, I went out to look over the
premises.
The house was very old, and showed no signs of any improvement having
been made for at least half a century. The furniture was of little value
and there were but few other things. A rusty sword, a few old books, and
some odd trinkets comprised about all. As Miss Crabshaw did not care for
these they were given to a negro woman who had rendered some assistance
to Old Nancy in the last years of her life.
The house itself contained none of those mysterious passages or hidden
closets which the imagination so readily connects with such old
habitations. There was a kind of small locker, however, opening from a
large closet near the ceiling. This little recess contained nothing but
a package of old papers and worthless letters, faded and mouldy. On
looking them over, one in particular attracted my attention on account
of an official seal which it bore. It proved to be a document
commissioning Richard Anthony Treadwell as Major in the Seventh Regiment
of Cavalry in the Royal Army of his Majesty King George III. The date
was June 12, 1793. But who was Richard Anthony Treadwell, and how
happened his commission to be here? A discovery made a few minutes later
served to throw some light on the mystery. Among the few books found in
the house was an antique volume of Shakspere's plays, which, judging
from the thick net-work of cobwebs encircling it, had not been touched
for years.
Curiosity led me to open the book. On its fly-leaf was the inscription:
"A present to Thomas from his father, Richard A. Treadwell." A curious
fact was that this name had been crossed and recrossed with a pen, and
underneath had been written as a substitute in the same handwriting:
"John Blake." The ink used at the _first_ writing had retained its
blackness in a remarkable degree; while that used at the time of the
_erasure_ and _for the substitute name_ had so faded that the
first name was much plainer than the second. The natural inference
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