Luck and Pluck 27

Luck and Pluck 27

There was a small room on the lower floor, where the late Mr. Oakley

used to do the most of his writing. This has already been referred to.

Here he kept a desk, and this desk more than once had been searched by

Mrs. Oakley. She determined to search it once more, but only for form's

sake.

 

"He did not mean that I should find it," she thought. "Therefore he did

not conceal it where I should be certain to look first."

 

So, though she searched the desk, she was not disappointed when this

search, like the preceding, resulted in bringing nothing to light.

 

"It is as I thought," she said. "Where shall I search next?"

 

She selected her own bedchamber, though here, for obvious reasons, she

had little hopes of finding the missing document.

 

"He wouldn't place it under my very eyes," she said. "Of course I know

that. Still I cannot afford to leave a single place unexplored."

 

The result justified her anticipations. So room after room was

searched, and no clue was obtained.

 

"He wouldn't put it under the carpet," she thought.

 

Yet the thought seemed worth following up. She got down on her hands

and knees, and felt of every square foot of carpeting in the several

rooms to see if she could detect beneath the pressure of any paper. In

one place there was a rustle, and she eagerly tore up the carpet. But

nothing was revealed save a loose piece of newspaper, which by some

chance had got underneath. Disappointed, she nailed down the carpet

again.

 

Where else should she look? All at once a luminous idea came to her.

 

John's room,--his old room, of course! Why had she never thought of

that? John, of course, was the one who would be most benefited by

the new will. If by any chance it should be discovered by him, no

harm would result. His father would trust John, when he would not

have trusted her or Ben. Mrs. Oakley could not help acknowledging to

herself that in that he was right. What strengthened her in this view

was, that among the articles of furniture was an old desk which had

belonged to Squire Oakley's father. It was battered and defaced by

hard usage, and had been at one time banished to the attic. But John,

who was accustomed to study in his room, felt that this old desk would

be of use to him, and he had asked to have it transferred to his own

chamber. There had been no objection to this, and the transfer took

place about a year before Squire Oakley's death. It had stood in John's

room ever since.

 

When the new idea came to Mrs. Oakley, she thought at once of this old

desk as the probable repository of the will. Her eyes sparkled with

anticipated triumph.

 

"I was a fool not to think of this before," she said. "If the will is

anywhere in the house, it is in John's room, and in that old desk. At

last I am on the right track!"

 

With a hurried step she entered John's room. Her hands trembled with

nervous agitation. She felt that she was on the brink of an important

discovery.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XX.

 

MRS. OAKLEY FINDS THE WILL.

 

 

Mrs. Oakley commenced her examination of the old desk, thoroughly

convinced that if the missing will were in existence at all, it was

hidden there.

 

It was one of those old desks and bureaus combined, which were so

common in the days of our grandfathers. In the drawers beneath, John

had been accustomed to keep his clothing; in the desk above, writing

materials, and some small articles of no particular importance. These

he had not had time to remove before his unexpected departure.

 

Mrs. Oakley turned those over impatiently, and explored every drawer

hurriedly. But she did not discover what she had expected to find.

This first failure, however, did not surprise her. She did not

expect to find the will lying loosely in any of the drawers. But she

suspected that some one drawer might have a false bottom, beneath which

the important document would prove to be concealed. She therefore

carefully examined every drawer with a view to the discovery of such a

place of concealment. But to her disappointment she obtained no clue.

The drawers seemed honestly made. For the first time Mrs. Oakley began

to doubt whether the will were really in existence. She had searched

everywhere, and it could not be found.

 

"I wish I could be sure," she said to herself. "I would give five

hundred dollars this minute to be sure that there was no will. Then I

should feel secure in the possession of my money. But to feel that at

any moment a paper may turn up depriving me of forty thousand dollars

keeps me in constant anxiety."

 

She gave up the search for the day, having domestic duties to attend

to. She tried to persuade herself that her fears and anxieties were

without foundation, but in this she was unsuccessful. She permitted a

day to slip by, but on the second day she again visited John's room.

The old desk seemed to have a fascination for her.

 

This time she turned the desk around, and passed her hand slowly over

the back. Just when she was about to relinquish the attempt in despair,

success came.

 

Suddenly beneath her finger a concealed spring was unconsciously

touched, and a thin drawer sprang from the recesses of the desk. Mrs.

Oakley's eyes sparkled with the sense of approaching triumph, as she

perceived carefully laid away therein a paper compactly folded.

 

With fingers trembling with nervous agitation she opened it. She had

not been deceived. _The missing will lay outspread before her!_ Mrs.

Oakley read it carefully.

 

It was drawn up with the usual formalities, as might have been

expected, being the work of a careful lawyer. It revoked all other

wills of a previous date, and bequeathed in express terms two-thirds of

the entire estate left by the testator to his only son, John. Squire

Selwyn was appointed executor, and guardian of said John, should he be

under age at the time of his father's death. The remaining third of

the property was willed to Mrs. Jane Oakley, should she survive her

husband; otherwise to her son Benjamin in the event of his mother's

previous death.

 

Such was the substance of Squire Oakley's last will and testament, now

for the first time revealed.

 

Mrs. Oakley read it with mingled feelings,--partly of indignation

with her late husband that he should have made such a will, partly

of joy that no one save herself knew of its existence. She held in

her hand a document which in John Oakley's hands would be worth forty

thousand dollars if she permitted him to obtain it. But she had no such

intention. What should be done with it?

 

Should she lock it up carefully where it would not be likely to be

found? There would be danger of discovery at any moment.

 

"It must be destroyed," she said to herself, resolutely. "There is no

other way. A single match will make me secure in the possession of the

estate."

 

Mrs. Oakley knew that it was a criminal act which she had in view; but

the chance of detection seemed to be slight. In fact, since no one

_knew_ that such a will was in existence, though some might suspect it,

there seemed to be no danger at all.

 

"Yes, it shall be destroyed and at once. There can be no reason for

delay," she said firmly.

 

She crossed the entry into her own chamber, first closing the secret

drawer, and moving the old desk back to its accustomed place. There was

a candle on the mantel-piece, which she generally lighted at night.

She struck a match, and lighted it now. This done, she approached

the will to the flame, and the corner of the document so important

to John Oakley caught fire, and the insidious flame began to spread.

Mrs. Oakley watched it with exulting eyes, when a sudden step was

heard at the door of her chamber, and, turning, she saw Hannah, the

servant-girl, standing on the threshold, looking in.

 

Mrs. Oakley half rose, withdrawing the will from the candle, and

demanded harshly:--

 

"What brought you here?"

 

"Shall I go out to the garden and get some vegetables for dinner?"

asked Hannah.

 

"Of course you may. You needn't have come up here to ask," said her

mistress, with irritation.

 

"I didn't know whether you would want any," said Hannah, defending

herself. "There was some cold vegetables left from yesterday's dinner.

I thought maybe you'd have them warmed over."

 

"Well, if there are enough left you may warm them. I'll come down

just as soon as I can. I have been looking over some old papers of my

husband's," she explained, rather awkwardly, perceiving that Hannah's

eyes were bent curiously upon the will and the candle, "and burning

such as were of no value. Do you know what time it is?"

 

"Most eleven, by the kitchen clock," said Hannah.

 

"Then you had better go down, and hurry about dinner."

 

"I can take down the old papers, and put them in the kitchen stove,"

suggested Hannah.

 

"It's of no consequence," said Mrs. Oakley, hastily. "I will attend to

that myself."

 

"Mrs. Oakley seems queer this morning," thought Hannah, as she turned

and descended the stairs to her professional duties in the kitchen. "I

wonder what made her jump so when I came in, and what that paper is

that she was burning up in the candle."

 

Hannah had never heard of the will, and was unacquainted with legal

technicalities, and therefore her suspicions were not excited. She only