nd lock it up, then come
back. I've something to say to you."

When Roger returned, he had several minutes to wait before his father
spoke again. The ill man seemed to be husbanding his resources as well
as considering how best to begin. At last he moistened his dry lips
and made an effort.

"You all of you assume I'm going to get well of this," he stated
casually.

"Get well? Of course you are!"

"I'm not so sure. Not that it bothers me. I've had my day. Only, in
case I do peg out, it seems fair to tell you beforehand about a slight
alteration I have seen fit to make in my will."

"Yes, what is it?"

The old man drew a deep breath, then continued, pausing between
sentences.

"It has nothing to do with the disposition of the property. That
remains the same. Only, I have appointed you as executor and a sort of
trustee of the whole estate."

"Me!"

Utterly unprepared for this information, his son regarded him in dismay.

"Why not?"

Roger could think of nothing to say. He was filled with chagrin, but
afraid to voice his reasons for objecting.

"It struck me," went on Sir Charles in a laboured manner, "that as
Therese is a young woman, the trustee ought to be a young man. An old
one might not have so much understanding."

"Perhaps not, but why me? Wouldn't it be better to choose someone
outside the family?"

"No, I don't think so. Who outside the family would take enough
interest? Besides, frankly, I don't know any other young man whose
judgment I'd trust as I would yours."

Great as was the compliment, it did not mitigate for Roger the onerous
nature of the responsibility.

"Are you quite sure it's necessary?" he asked unhappily.

"Quite. I could not rest easy unless I had placed what I have to leave
in the hands of a competent man of business. You know it as well as I
do, Therese needs looking after."

Roger rose and walked to the window, where he stood for several seconds
staring out, unable to bring himself to make a suitable comment. There
was but one thing he felt inclined to say, which was, "Oh, give her the
usual amount for a widow, and let her go to hell!" which, of course,
wouldn't do. Why had his father forced this irksome duty upon him? To
be forcibly kept in contact with his stepmother, to be compelled to
advise her, overlook her expenditures--it was intolerable. At all cost
he felt he must get out of it--that is, at all cost save that of
exciting and distressing h