“Signed, sealed, and delivered, this third day of November, eighteen hundred and forty-seven, by Noel Vanstone, the within-named testator, as and for his last Will and Testament, in the presence of us—­”

“Is that all?” asked Noel Vanstone, in astonishment.

“That is enough, sir, to bequeath your fortune to the admiral; and therefore that is all.  Now let us go back to the case which we have supposed already.  Your widow pays her shilling, and sees this will.  There is the Combe-Raven money left to Admiral Bartram, with a declaration in plain words that it is his, to use as he likes.  When she sees this, what does she do?  She sets her trap for the admiral.  He is a bachelor, and he is an old man.  Who is to protect him against the arts of this desperate woman?  Protect him yourself, sir, with a few more strokes of that pen which has done such wonders already.  You have left him this legacy in your will—­which your wife sees.  Take the legacy away again, in a letter—­which is a dead secret between the admiral and you.  Put the will and the letter under one cover, and place them in the admiral’s possession, with your written directions to him to break the seal on the day of your death.  Let the will say what it says now; and let the letter (which is your secret and his) tell him the truth.  Say that, in leaving him your fortune, you leave it with the request that he will take his legacy with one hand from you, and give it with the other to his nephew George.  Tell him that your trust in this matter rests solely on your confidence in his honor, and on your belief in his affectionate remembrance of your father and yourself.  You have known the admiral since you were a boy.  He has his little whims and oddities; but he is a gentleman from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot; and he is utterly incapable of proving false to a trust in his honor, reposed by his dead friend.  Meet the difficulty boldly, by such a stratagem as this; and you save these two helpless men from your wife’s snare, one by means of the other.  Here, on one side, is your will, which gives the fortune to the admiral, and sets her plotting accordingly.  And there, on the other side, is your letter, which privately puts the money into the nephew’s hands!”

The malicious dexterity of this combination was exactly the dexterity which Noel Vanstone was most fit to appreciate.  He tried to express his approval and admiration in words.  Mrs. Lecount held up her hand warningly and closed his lips.

“Wait, sir, before you express your opinion,” she went on.  “Half the difficulty is all that we have conquered yet.  Let us say, the admiral has made the use of your legacy which you have privately requested him to make of it.  Sooner or later, however well the secret may be kept, your wife will discover the truth.  What follows that discovery!  She lays siege to Mr. George.  All you have done is to leave him the money by a roundabout way.  There he is, after an interval of time, as much at her mercy as if you had openly mentioned him in your will.  What is the remedy for this?  The remedy is to mislead her, if we can, for the second time—­to set up an obstacle between her and the money, for the protection of your cousin George.  Can you guess for yourself, Mr. Noel, what is the most promising obstacle we can put in her way?”