“Two gentlemen!  What do they look like, Nancy?”

“One of ’em looks like he was from the country, mum.”

This referred to Mr. Graves, who did have a rustic look.  The doctor would readily have passed for a Bostonian.

“Did they give their names?”

“No, mum.”

“I will go down directly.  I suppose they won’t stay long.”

Mrs. Preston sailed into the parlor with the air of a city lady, as she proudly imagined, but stopped short in some surprise when she recognized her visitors.  Of course, she did not suspect the nature of their business.

Dr. Townley arose as she entered.

“Good-morning, Mrs. Preston,” he said.  “I hope I find you well?”

“I am quite well,” said Mrs. Preston, coldly, for she had never liked the doctor.  She had an unpleasant feeling that he understood her, and was not among her admirers.  “Good-morning, Mr. Graves.  You come to the city occasionally?”

“I don’t often get time to come up, but the doctor thought I ought to come.”

“Indeed!  I am sorry to say that I am just going out.”

“I must ask you to defer going till we have communicated our business,” said the doctor.

“Business?” repeated Mrs. Preston, seating herself in some surprise.

“Yes—­business of importance.  In short, your husband’s will has come to light.”

“My husband’s will!” exclaimed Mrs. Preston.  “I thought——­”

She checked herself suddenly.  She was about to say, “I thought I had destroyed it,” and that would have let the cat out of the bag with a vengeance.

“You thought that he left no will,” said the doctor, finishing the sentence for her.  “He really left two——­”

“Two!”

“That’s it—­he executed two—­exactly alike.  One he left in my hands.”

“That is a likely story!” said Mrs. Preston, excitedly.  “If that is the case, why, I ask, have we heard nothing of this before?”

“Because it was contained in an envelope, which I was requested not to open for six months after his decease.  The time having expired——­”

“May I ask what are the provisions of this pretended will?” demanded Mrs. Preston, in visible excitement.

“Mrs. Preston,” said the doctor, with dignity, “you appear to forget that you are addressing a gentleman.  I am above fabricating a will, as you seem to insinuate.  As to the provisions, it leaves five thousand dollars to the town for the establishment of a public library, and five thousand dollars to Andy Burke, besides the small house in which she used to live to the widow Burke.”

The worst had come.  In spite of her criminal act, she must lose the ten thousand dollars; and, worst of all, those whom she hated and despised were to profit by her loss.

“This is simply outrageous, Dr. Townley,” she said.

“You are speaking of your husband’s will, Mrs. Preston.”