rs flushed with blood, Minoret sprang
the lock with the point of his knife as rapidly as a burglar could have
done it. He entered the study, followed the doctor's directions,
took the package of papers without opening it, relocked the door, put
everything in order, and went into the dining-room and sat down, waiting
till La Bougival had gone upstairs with the poultice before he ventured
to leave the house. He then made his escape,--all the more easily
because poor Ursula lingered to see that La Bougival applied the
poultice properly.

"The letter! the letter!" cried the old man, in a dying voice. "Obey me;
take the key. I must see you with that letter in your hand."

The words were said with so wild a look that La Bougival exclaimed to
Ursula:--

"Do what he asks at once or you will kill him."

She kissed his forehead, took the key and went down. A moment later,
recalled by a cry from La Bougival, she ran back. The old man looked at
her eagerly. Seeing her hands empty, he rose in his bed, tried to speak,
and died with a horrible gasp, his eyes haggard with fear. The poor
girl, who saw death for the first time, fell on her knees and burst into
tears. La Bougival closed the old man's eyes and straightened him on
the bed; then she ran to call Savinien; but the heirs, who stood at the
corner of the street, like crows watching till a horse is buried before
they scratch at the ground and turn it over with beak and claw, flocked
in with the celerity of birds of prey.

CHAPTER XV. THE DOCTOR'S WILL

While these events were taking place the post master had hurried home to
open the mysterious package and know its contents.

To my dear Ursula Mirouet, daughter of my natural half-brother, Joseph
Mirouet, and Dinah Grollman:--

My dear Angel,--The fatherly affection I bear you--and which you have
so fully justified--came not only from the promise I gave your father
to take his place, but also from your resemblance to my wife, Ursula
Mirouet, whose grace, intelligence, frankness, and charm you constantly
recall to my mind. Your position as the daughter of a natural son of my
father-in-law might invalidate all testamentary bequests made by me in
your favor--

"The old rascal!" cried the post master.

Had I adopted you the result might also have been a lawsuit, and I
shrank from the idea of transmitting my fortune to you by marriage, for
I might live years and thus interfere with your happiness, which is
now delaye