Let Caryl know. She will sleep all the better."

"By George, I should think she will, and I, too! Where did they turn up?"

"In their place, in my locked safe. I unlocked it to put the brooch away, and they were there."

"In your locked safe! Did you leave it undone?"

"No. And I had the key."

"Then how—who——?"

"No mortal hand, I think. You know, there is a saying--! I tell you, but I shall slur it over to the others. Better so. Good-night."

Nevill Nugent’s Legacy

From Mrs. Margaret Campbell to a Friend

I

Yes, you are right; the legacy was a great surprise to us—the surprise of our lives, in fact; and we were ready to bless Cousin Nevill in the beginning—at least I was. Kenneth now says he always had his doubts. But I do not think he had many when he came in to me after the post delivery—just one step from the bedroom to the sitting-room of our flat, with that look upon his face, and the open letter shaking in his hand.

It seemed to have come to us straight from heaven, Cousin Nevill's bequest. For you must know we were at that time very hard up; almost, as the saying is, "stony-broke." Kenneth giving up his profession to join the army made a great change in our circumstances. We could not keep on our pretty house, of which I used to be so proud; and, as soon as I was alone, I moved into a tiny flat in town, and got work to do. But when Ken came out of hospital last January so ill and broken, my work had to stop, for I was needed to nurse him. Ever since then the money has been flowing out, with only a little—so little—trickling in: I cried over it only the night before, of course when Ken did not see. For it seemed as if even the wretched flat was more than we could afford, and I did not know where Tom's school-fees were to come from for another term—all important as his education is, the chance of life for such a clever boy.

You will judge what a breaking of sunlight into darkness was the great surprise. Ken's voice had a choke in it as he said: "I saw Nevill's death in the obituary, but I never dreamed it would benefit us."

"He was a rich man, was he not?" (I crowded my questions.) "Has he left us much money? All his money? What does the letter say?"

"All?—no, indeed! But a fair amount of property. It is a Mr. Bayliss who writes, an Edinburgh lawyer; and he would like to see me, as soon as I can make it convenient. Here, you can read for yourself."

He sank into the nearest chair, while I stood, devouring the communication; and now my hands were shaking too. Mr. Bayliss wrote that his client, Mr. Nevill Nugent, in a Will made the week before his death, devised the bulk of his property to Nugent relatives. To Kenneth, as representing his mother's side of the family, he gave the small estate of Mirk Muir, four miles distant from the manufacturing town of R--. It comprised the farms of South Muir, Bull Knowe, and Blackwater, and the residential property of Mirk Muir Grange, generally known as the Chapel House, and let off furnished, but now vacant. There was in addition a street of artisans' dwellings in R--, and most of these were in occupation. If well let, the entire property should bring in about £1200 per annum.

"Twelve hundred a year! Oh, Ken! That will be riches indeed—for us!"

"I wish indeed it was likely. It isn't as good as that. Go on, and you'll see."

The drawbacks followed, and they were considerable. The rents received the previous year barely amounted to £600. An action at law was pending, which the new owner would do well to compromise even at a loss.