tents of the latter,
by six or eight careful perusals. The vice-admiral read the instrument
from beginning to end, before he put it into the hands of Sir Reginald
to examine. The latter fully expected to meet with a clumsy forgery; but
the instant his eyes fell on the phraseology, he perceived that the will
had been drawn by one expert in the law. A second look satisfied him
that the hand was that of Mr. Baron Wychecombe. It has already been
said, that in this instrument, Sir Wycherly bequeathed all he had on
earth, to "his nephew, Thomas Wychecombe, son, &c., &c.," making his
heir, also, his executor.

"This will appears to me to have been drawn up by a very skilful lawyer;
the late Baron Wychecombe," observed the baronet.

"It was, Sir Reginald," answered Tom, endeavouring to appear
unconcerned. "He did it to oblige my respected uncle, leaving blanks for
the name of the devisee, not liking to make a will so very decidedly in
favour of his own son. The writing in the blanks is by Sir Wycherly
himself, leaving no doubts of _his_ intentions."

"I do not see but you may claim to be the heir of Wychecombe, sir, as
well as of the personals; though your claims to the baronetcy shall
certainly be contested and defeated."

"And why defeated?" demanded Wycherly, stepping forward for the first
time, and speaking with a curiosity he found it difficult to control.
"Is not Mr. Thomas--_Sir_ Thomas, I ought rather to say,--the eldest son
of the late Sir Wycherly's next brother; and, as a matter of course,
heir to the title, as well as to the estate?"

"Not he, as I can answer from a careful examination of proofs. Mr. Baron
Wychecombe was never married, and thus _could have_ no heir at law."

"Is this possible!--How have we all been deceived then, in America!"

"Why do you say this, young gentleman? Can _you_ have any legal claims
here?"

"I am Wycherly, the _only_ son of Wycherly, who was the eldest son of
Gregory, the younger brother of the late baronet; and if what you say be
true, the next in succession to the baronetcy, at least."

"This is--" Tom's words stuck in his throat; for the quiet, stern eye of
the young sailor met his look and warned him to be prudent.--"This is a
_mistake_," he resumed. "My uncle Gregory was lost at sea, and died a
bachelor. He can have left no lawful issue."

"I must say, young gentleman," added Sir Reginald, gravely, "that such
has always been the history of his fate. I have had too near