le breaking it merely in the
spirit, in which case probably no one but yourself would be aware that it
had been so broken. You will not be asked to sign any promise in the
matter. You will only be asked to give your word."

"To give your word," said Henry Parsons, looking solemnly at Antony.

"Yes," said Antony quietly.

James Glieve pulled a paper towards him.

"The conditions," he announced, "are as follows. I am about to read what
the--er, late Mr. Nicholas Danver has himself written regarding the
matter."

He cleared his throat, and pushed his spectacles back on his nose.

Antony looked directly at him. In spite of the business-like appearance
of the room, the business-like attitude of the two men opposite to him,
he still felt that odd Arabian Nights' entertainment sensation. The room
and its occupants seemed to be masquerading under a business garb; it
seemed to need but one word--if he could have found it--to metamorphose
the whole thing back to its original and true conditions, to change the
room into an Aladdin's cave, and the two men into a friendly giant and an
attendant dwarf. The only thing he could not see metamorphosed was
George, the office-boy-butler. He retained his own appearance and
personality. He appeared to have been brought--as a human boy,
possibly--into the entertainment, and to have grown up imperturbably in
it. Though quite probably, under his present respectable demeanour, he
was well aware of the true state of affairs, and was laughing inwardly at
it.

James Glieve cleared his throat a second time, and began.

"The conditions under which I make the aforesaid Antony Gray my heir," he
read, "are as follows. He will not enter into possession of either
property or money for one year precisely from the day of hearing these
conditions. He shall give his word of honour to make known to no person
whatsoever that he is my heir. He shall live, during the said year, in a
furnished cottage on the estate, the cottage to be designated to him by
my friend Doctor Hilary St. John. He will undertake that he lives in that
cottage and nowhere else, not even for a day. He will live as an ordinary
labourer. That this may be facilitated he will have a post as one of the
under-gardeners in the gardens of Chorley Old Hall. Golding, the
head-gardener, will instruct him in his duties. He will be paid one pound
sterling per week as wage, and he shall pay a rent of five shillings per
week for the cottage. He