bster's bequest, heartily as he disapproved of it, lent a welcome bit of
color to the grayness of his days. Ever since he had drawn up the
fantastic document it had furnished him with riddles so interesting and
unsolvable that they rendered tales of Peter Featherstone and Martin
Chuzzlewit tame reading. These worthies were only creations of paper and
ink; but here was a living, breathing enigma,--the enigma of Martin Howe!

What would this hero of the present situation do? For undoubtedly it was
Martin who was to be the chief actor of the coming drama.

The lawyer knocked the ashes from his pipe, thrust it into his pocket and,
putting on his hat and coat, stepped into the hall, where he lingered only
long enough to post on his office door the hastily scrawled announcement:
"Will return to-morrow." Then he hurried across the town green to the shed
behind the church where he always hitched his horse. Backing the wagon out
with care, he jumped into it and proceeded to drive off down the high
road.

Martin Howe was in the field when Mr. Benton arrived. Under ordinary
conditions the man would have joined him there, but to-day such a course
seemed too informal, and instead he drew up his horse at the front door
and sent Jane to summon her brother.

Fortunately Martin was no great distance away and soon entered, a flicker
of curiosity in his eyes.

The lawyer began with a leisurely introduction.

"I imagine, Howe, you are a trifle surprised to have a call from me," he
said.

"Yes, I am a bit."

"I drove over on business," announced Mr. Benton.

Nevertheless, although he prefaced his revelation with this remark, he did
not immediately enlighten his listener as to what the business was. In
truth, now that the great moment for breaking silence had arrived, Mr.
Benton found himself obsessed with a desire to prolong its flavor of
mystery. It was like rolling the honied tang of a cordial beneath his
tongue. A few words and the secret would lay bare in the light of common
day, its glamor rent to atoms.

Martin waited patiently.

"On business," repeated Mr. Benton at last, as if there had been no break
in the conversation.

"I'm ready to hear it," Martin said, smiling.

"I came, in fact, to acquaint you with the contents of a will."

Yet again the lawyer's tongue, sphinxlike from habit, refused to utter
the tidings it guarded.

"The will," he presently resumed, "of my client, Miss Ellen Webster."

He was rewarded b