head of game killed each day--that was all the bureau contained.

"Let us examine another piece of furniture," murmured the justice.

Manette and Claudet remained unmoved. They apparently knew the reason
why none but insignificant papers had been found in the drawers, for
their features expressed neither surprise nor disappointment.

Another search through a high chest of drawers with large copper handles
was equally unprofitable. Then they attacked the secretary, and after
the key had been turned twice in the noisy lock, the lid went slowly
down. The countenances of both mother and son, hitherto so unconcerned,
underwent a slight but anxious change. The bailiff continued his
scrupulous search of each drawer under the watchful eye of the justice,
finding nothing but documents of mediocre importance; old titles to
property, bundles of letters, tradesmen's bills, etc. Suddenly, at the
opening of the last drawer, a significant "Ah!" from Stephen Seurrot
drew round him the heads of the justice and the notary, and made Manette
and Claudet, standing at the foot of the bed, start with expectation.
On the dark ground of a rosewood box lay a sheet of white paper, on which
was written:

"This is my testament."

With the compression of lip and significant shake of the head of a
physician about to take in hand a hopeless case of illness, the justice
made known to his two neighbors the text of the sheet of paper, on which
Claude Odouart de Buxieres had written, in his coarse, ill-regulated
hand, the following lines: