r, and it would, he thought, be a deed grand to do. Then
he had been interrupted, and insulted by the butler, and in his anger
he had determined that the paper should rest there yet another day.

CHAPTER VIII

The Reading of the Will

On the whole of the next day the search was continued. In spite of
his late watches, Cousin Henry rose up early, not looking at anything
that was being done while the search was continued in other rooms,
but still sitting, as he had heretofore sat, among the books. The two
men whom Mr Apjohn had sent from his office, together with the butler
and Mrs Griffith, began their work in the old man's bed-room, and
then carried it on in the parlour. When they came to the book-room,
as being the next in turn, Cousin Henry took his hat and went out
into the garden. There, as he made short turns upon the gravel path,
he endeavoured to force himself away from the close vicinity of the
window; but he could not do it. He could not go where he would have
been unable to see what was being done. He feared,--he trembled in
his fear,--lest they should come upon the guilty volume. And yet he
assured himself again and again that he wished that they might find
it. Would it not in every way be better for him that they should find
it? He could not bring himself to destroy it, and surely, sooner or
later, it would be found.

Every book was taken from its shelf, apparently with the object of
looking into the vacant spaces behind them. Through the window he
could see all that was done. As it happened, the compartment in which
was the fatal shelf,--on which was the fatal volume,--was the last
that they reached. No attempt was made to open the books one by one;
but then this volume, with so thick an enclosure to betray it, would
certainly open of itself. He himself had gone to the place so often
that certainly the enclosure would betray itself. Well, let it betray
itself! No one could say that he had had guilty cognizance of its
whereabouts! But yet he knew that he would have been unable to speak,
would have gasped, and would surely have declared himself to be
guilty by his awe-struck silence.

Three by three the books came down, and then were replaced. And now
they were at the shelf! Why could he not go away? Why must he stand
there fixed at the window? He had done nothing,--nothing, nothing;
and yet he stood there trembling, immovable, with the perspiration
running off his face, unable to keep his eyes