t I had decided to do. It shall be
done at once, Gammon. I know it will relieve my mind."

He rose, went to the writing-table, unlocked a drawer, and took out a
large sealed envelope, on which something was written.

"Gammon, you are witness of what I now do. This is my will, executed
about a year ago. I have reasons for wishing to dispose of my property
in another way. Cuthbertson will see to that for me to-morrow. A will
becomes public. I did not think of that at the time. There!"

He threw the sealed packet into the fire, where it was quickly caught
by the flames and consumed.

"Now I feel easier in mind, much easier."

He drank from the replenished glass, smiling and nodding.

CHAPTER XXII

NEW YEAR'S EVE

Gammon had the strangest sensation. He felt as though he were acting in
a melodrama; he stood in a constrained position, as if the eyes of the
house were upon him; he suffered from a sort of stage fright. Much more
of this kind of thing would assuredly unsettle his wits. To recover
tone he helped himself to a stiff glass of whisky.

"That's right," said his host encouragingly. "Make yourself
comfortable. Greenacre may drop in at any moment. You can't think how
much better I feel, Gammon. So clear in the mind, you know--why, it has
only just occurred to me, this is New Year's Eve."

"So it is. Here's to your health and happiness, Lord Polperro!"

"Thank you, my dear Gammon. I heartily wish you the same. To-morrow, or
at all events in a few days, a new life begins for me, as you know. In
the climate of the south of Europe, with my wife and the little
girl--ah, but for this idiotic title!--I was saying--"

He began to wander unintelligibly, then complained of physical
sufferings, then coughed until he sank in exhaustion.

Time went on. Gammon began to ask himself how long he should wait. At
half-past ten he made a suggestion that his lordship might do worse
than go to bed, but this was ill received.

"By no means. Greenacre may be here at any moment. He will certainly
come to-night. If he doesn't come, do you know what occurs to me? Why
shouldn't we drive into the City and ask whether he has returned?"

"Ask where?"

"He lives at a place--a sort of hotel--which he calls the Bilboes.
Greenacre is eccentric, but thoroughly trustworthy. He had a
gentleman's education."

"He lives there, does he?" exclaimed Gammon.

"Finds it convenient, I suppose. Yes, we will go and inquire--we
certainly