He had no appointment with
Victor, and did not even know if he were still in the neighbourhood;
but he fancied it was just possible the surgeon might be waiting for
him somewhere without the boundary of the garden.
He was not mistaken. A few minutes after passing through the gateway,
he saw the figure of the pedlar approaching him under the shade of the
spreading beeches.
"I am glad you are here," said Reginald; "I fancied I might find you
somewhere hereabouts."
"And I have been waiting and watching about here for the last two
hours. I dared not trust a messenger, and could only take my chance of
seeing you."
"You have heard of--of--"
"I have heard everything, I believe."
"What does it mean, Victor?--what does it all mean?"
"It means that you are a wonderfully lucky fellow; and that, instead of
waiting thirty years to see your uncle grow a semi-idiotic old dotard,
you will step at once into one of the finest estates in England."
"You knew, then, that the will was made last night?"
"Well, I guessed as much."
"You have seen Millard?"
"No, I have not seen Millard."
"How could you know of my uncle's will, then? It was only executed last
night."
"Never mind how I know it, my dear Reginald. I do know it. Let that be
enough for you."
"It is too terrible," murmured the young man, after a pause; "it is too
terrible.
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