nsert--in the event of Roger Ingleton, previous to his attaining his
majority, becoming a felon, a lunatic, or marrying, he is to be regarded
as dead, and the property thereby passes to the next heir, Captain
Oliphant. I think we may congratulate ourselves on what is really a
very simple will, and which, provided the trustees named consent to act,
presents very little difficulty. I have telegraphed already to Captain
Oliphant. Mr Armstrong, will you do me the favour, at your
convenience, of intimating to me your consent or otherwise?"

Mr Armstrong made no response. It was indeed doubtful whether he had
heard the question. For at that precise moment, gazing about him in
bewilderment at the unexpected responsibility thus thrown upon him, his
eyes became suddenly riveted by a picture. It was a portrait, partly
concealed behind the curtain of the window in which he sat, but unveiled
sufficiently to disclose the face of a fair-haired boy, younger by some
years than Roger, with clear blue eyes and strong compressed mouth,
somewhat sullen in temper, but with an air of recklessness and
determination which, even in the portrait, fascinated the beholder. Mr
Armstrong, although he had frequently been in his late employer's study,
had never noticed this picture before. Now, as he caught sight of it
and suddenly met the flash of those wild bright eyes, he experienced
something like a shock. He could not help recalling Dr Brandram's sad
story the other day. Something seemed mysteriously to connect this
portrait and the story together in his mind. Strange that at such a
moment, when the fate of the younger son was being decided, his guardian
should thus come suddenly face to face with the elder!

Mr Armstrong was not a superstitious man, but he felt decidedly glad
when a general break up of the party allowed him to get out of range of
these not altogether friendly eyes, and escape to the seclusion of his
own room.

CHAPTER THREE.

A MISSING INSCRIPTION.

A week later, Mr Pottinger, as he trotted into his office, found a
letter and a telegram lying side by side on his desk.

He opened the telegram first and read--

"Bombay, January 17. Consent. Am starting, Oliphant."

"That's all right," said the lawyer to himself. "We shall have one
competent executor, at any rate."

He endorsed the telegram and proceeded to open the letter. It too was a
very brief communication.

"Sir, I beg to say I accept the duti