"
Her momentary discomposure at having mentioned the arch fiend in the
presence of those who were his professional enemies gave Wynne a chance
to interpolate a question. He could easily understand that the violent
excitement of a quarrel with her old servant might account for the
sudden death of his aunt. He perceived in a flash how Norah, terrified
by the newspaper reports which had openly accused her of making way
with her mistress, would without difficulty be induced by her husband
to conceal herself. The matter to him most important, however, had not
yet been touched upon.
"But what became of her will?" he asked. "You told me she made a new
one."
"She did that, Master Maurice. Wasn't I night and day telling her she'd
treated you scandalous, and upside down of all reason; and didn't she
send for old Burnham, with the squinchy eyes and the wife that had a
wart on her nose, and have it all writ over."
"So he said. But what became of it?"
"Ain't you ever had it?"
"No; we could never find it."
"Why didn't you look under the bottom of her little desk?" Mrs. Murphy
demanded in much excitement.
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