I explained to Mrs. Mozeen that I wanted witnesses to the
signature of my will. Naturally enough--being in the room at the
time--she asked if she could be one of them.

I was obliged to say No; and not to mortify her, I gave the
reason.

"My will recognizes what I owe to your good services," I said.
"If you are one of the witnesses, you will lose your legacy. Send
up the men-servants."

With her customary tact, Mrs. Mozeen expressed her gratitude
silently, by a look--and left the room.

"Why couldn't you tell that woman to send the servants, without
mentioning her legacy?" Rothsay asked. "My friend Lepel, you have
done a very foolish thing."

"In what way?"

"You have given Mrs. Mozeen an interest in your death."

It was impossible to make a serious reply to this ridiculous
exhibition of Rothsay's prejudice against poor Mrs. Mozeen.

"When am I to be murdered?" I asked. "And how is it to be done?
Poison?"

"I'm not joking," Rothsay answered. "You are infatuated about