“A rare kind of gratitude,” I replied.

“Is no reason given in the will?”

“Not a word.”

I remembered the packet which I had just received from the lawyer, and I mentioned it to her.

“Open it now,” she said. “I am interested — if you do not think me too inquisitive.”

I tore the envelope. It contained another envelope, sealed, and a letter. I scanned the letter.

“It is nothing,” I said with false casualness, and was returning it to my pocket. The worst of me is that I have no histrionic instinct; I cannot act a part.

“Wait!” she cried sharply, and I hesitated before the appeal in her tragic voice.