“In the first place, I am already what is called a rich man and I do not want to be bothered with more money and property.”

“But, Mr. Quatermain,” he interrupted, “you have a son who, with such wealth behind him, might rise to anything—yes, anything.” (This was true, for, at that time, my boy Harry was living.)

“Yes, but, as it chances, Mr. Mellis, I have ideas upon this matter which you may think peculiar. I do not wish my son to begin life with enormous resources, or even the prospect of them. I wish him to fight his own way in the world. He is going to be a doctor. When he has succeeded in his profession and learned what it means to earn one’s own bread, it will be time for him to come into other people’s money. Already I have explained this to him with reference to my own, and being a sensible youth, he agrees with me.”

“I daresay,” groaned the lawyer. “Such—well, failings—as yours, are often hereditary.”

“Another thing is,” I went on, “that I do not wish to be bothered by a lawsuit with Mr. Atterby-Smith. Further, I cannot bind myself to live half the year in Ragnall Castle in a kind of ducal state. Very likely, before all is done, I might want to return to Africa, which then I could not do. In short, it comes to this: I accept the executorship and my out-of-pocket expenses, and shall ask your firm to act for me in the matter. The fortune I positively and finally refuse, as you observe Lady Ragnall thought it probable I should do.”

Mr. Mellis rose and looked at the clock. “If you will allow me to order the dogcart,” he said, “I think there is just time for me to catch the afternoon train up to town. Meanwhile, I propose to leave you a copy of the will and of the other documents to study at your leisure, including the sealed letter which you have not yet read. Perhaps after taking independent advice, from your own solicitors and friends, you will write me your views in a few days’ time. Until then, this conversation of ours goes for nothing. I consider it entirely preliminary and without prejudice.”

The dogcart came round—indeed, it was already waiting—and thus this remarkable interview ended. From the doorstep I watched the departure of Mr. Mellis and saw him turn, look at me, and shake his head solemnly. Evidently he thought that the right place for me was a lunatic asylum.

“Thank goodness, that’s done with!” I said to myself. “Now I’ll order a trap and go and tell Curtis and Good about all the business. No, I won’t; they’ll only think me mad as that lawyer does, and argue with me. I’ll take a walk and mark those oaks that have to come down next spring. But first I had better put away these papers.”

Thus I reflected and began to collect the documents. Lifting the copy of the will, I saw lying beneath it the sealed letter of which Mr. Mellis had spoken, addressed to me and marked

To be delivered after my death, or in the event of Mr. Quatermain pre-deceasing me, to be burned unread.

The sight of that well-known writing and the thought that she who penned it was now departed from the world and that nevermore would my eyes behold her, moved me.