"What!--you think he still has them--in the upper regions?"

Coryston flung an audacious hand toward the ceiling. Lady Coryston grew
pale. Marcia looked fiercely at her brother, and, coming to her mother's
side, she took her hand.

"Your brothers and sister, Coryston, will not allow you, I think, to insult
your father's memory!" The voice audibly shook.

Coryston sprang up impetuously and came to stand over his mother, his hands
on his sides.

"Now look here, mother. Let's come to business. You've been plotting
something more against me, and I want to know what it is. Have you been
dishing me altogether?--cutting me finally out of the estates? Is that what
you mean? Let's have it!"

Lady Coryston's face stiffened anew into a gray obstinacy.

"I prefer, Coryston, to tell my story in my own words and in my own way--"

"Yes--but please _tell_ it!" said Coryston, sharply. "Is it fair to
keep us on tenter-hooks? What is that paper, for instance? Extracts, I
guess, from your will--which concern me--and the rest of them"--he waved
his hand toward the other three. "For God's sake let's have them, and get
done with it."

"I will read them, if you will sit down, Coryston."