'It isn't necessary that a witness to a will should be aware of its
contents,' said Baines. 'In fact, it's quite unusual.'

'I sign nothing in the dark,' she said, smiling. Through their
half-closed lids her eyes glimmered at Baines.

'Ha! Legal caution acquired from your cousin, I presume.' Baines smiled
at her. 'But let me assure ye, Miss Beechinor, this is a mere matter of
form. A will must be signed in the presence of two witnesses, both
present at the same time; and there's only yeself and me for it.'

Mary looked at the dying man, whose features were writhed in pain, and
shook her head.

'Tell her,' he murmured with bitter despair, and sank down into the
pillows, dropping the fountain-pen, which had left a stain of ink on the
sheet before Baines could pick it up.

'Well, then, Miss Beechinor, if ye must know,' Baines began with
sarcasm, 'the will is as follows: The testator--that's Mr.
Beechinor--leaves twenty guineas to his brother Mark to show that he
bears him no ill-will and forgives him. The rest of his estate is to be
realized, and the proceeds given to the North Staffordshire Infirmary,
to found a bed, which is to be called the Beechinor bed. If there is any
surplus, it is to go to the Law Clerks' Provident Society. That is all.'

'I shall have nothing to do with it,' Mary said coldly.

'Young lady, we don't want ye to have anything to do with it. We only
desire ye to witness the signature.'

'I won't witness the signature, and I won't see it signed.'

'Damn thee, Mary! thou'rt a wicked wench,' Beechinor whispered in
hoarse, feeble tones. He saw himself robbed of the legitimate fruit of
all those interminable years of toilsome thrift. This girl by a trick
would prevent him from disposing of his own. He, Edward Beechinor,
shrewd and wealthy, was being treated like a child. He was too weak to
rave, but from his aggrieved and furious heart he piled silent curses on
her. 'Go, fetch another witness,' he added to the lawyer.

'Wait a moment,' said Baines. 'Miss Beechinor, do ye mean to say that ye
will cross the solemn wish of a dying man?'

'I mean to say I won't help a dying man to commit a crime.'

'A crime?'

'Yes,' she answered, 'a crime. Seven years ago Mr. Beechinor willed
everything to his brother Mark, and Mark ought to have everything. Mark
is his only brother--his only relation except me. And Edward knows it
isn't me wants any of his money. North Staffordshire Infirmary indeed!
It's