Just then Mr. Jerrold, Dr. Burrell, and Father Fabian came in; and
after exchanging the compliments of the day with the ladies and Mr.
Fielding, prepared to execute the business which had brought them
together. Mr. Fielding, accompanied by Mr. Jerrold, went up to get the
will. He had long held the most intimate business relations with Mr.
Stillinghast, and was the only man living who had ever been in his
confidence. He knew the contents of every parcel and package of
writing in the old desk and bureau, and could just tell where he was at
fault now. There was only one will to be found, and that was the one
which the deceased had declared should be null and void. The group
below who were conversing on some interesting topic, were soon amazed
to hear Mr. Fielding's voice in loud and excited tones at the head of
the staircase. Clearing two or three steps at a time, he bounded into
the room, followed by Mr. Jerrold, who was pale and silent. He was
usually a grave and quiet person, and so governed by system, that the
very hairs on his head might have been said to be arranged numerically.

"Here's a pretty thing come to pass!" he exclaimed, throwing a bundle
of papers on the table; "a most beautiful kettle of fish. The last
will and testament of the deceased is missing. Yes, sirs! can't be
found. May, who was in your uncle's room the last night he lived? I
say _then_, because the closet in which the will was placed was locked
then, and the key has been in my pocket ever since. Who was there?"

"_I_ was there, sir," said May, astonished at the uproar.

"Who else?"

"Helen was there for a little while."