emory, I will.
Is it a very great deal?"

"Is it a great deal of money, you mean?" he queried.

She nodded.

"I should say that at the very least my late friend's personal estate
must be between six and seven millions of pounds sterling."

She clasped her hands in dismay.

"Oh! It is terrible!" she said, in a low strained voice--"Surely God
never meant one man to have so much money!"

"It was fairly earned,"--said Sir Francis, quietly--"David Helmsley, to
my own knowledge, never wronged or oppressed a single human being on his
way to his own success. His money is clean! There's no brother's blood
on the gold--and no 'sweated' labour at the back of it. That I can vouch
for--that I can swear! No curse will rest on the fortune you inherit,
Miss Deane--for it was made honestly!"

Tears stood in her eyes, and she wiped them away furtively.

"Poor David!" she murmured--"Poor lonely old man! With all that wealth
and no one to care for him! Oh yes, the more I think of it the more I
understand it! But now there is only one thing for me to do--I must get
home as quickly as possible and tell Angus"--here she pointed to the
last paragraph in Helmsley's list of bequests--"You see,"--she went
on--"he leaves Mary Deane--that's me--to Angus Reay, 'and with Her all
that I value.' I am engaged to be married to Mr. Reay--David wished very
much to live till our wedding-day--"

She broke off, passing her hand across her brow and looking puzzled.

"Mr. Reay is very much to be congratulated!"--said Sir Francis, gently.

She smiled rather sadly.

"Oh, I'm not sure of that," she said--"He is a very clever man--he
writes books, and he will be famous very soon--while I--" She paused
again, then went on, looking very earnestly at Sir Francis--"May
I--would you--write out something for me that I might sign before I go
away to-day, to make it sure that if I die, all that I have--including
this terrible, terrible fortune--shall come to Angus Reay? You see
anything might happen to me--quite suddenly,--the very train I am going
back in to-night might meet with some accident, and I might be
killed--and then poor David's money would be lost, and his legacies
never paid. Don't you see that?"

Sir Francis certainly saw it, but was not disposed to admit its
possibility.

"There is really no necessity to anticipate evil," he began.

"There is perhaps no necessity--but I should like to be sure, quite
sure, that in case of such evil all was