“What is it?”

Lady Tamplin picked up the Daily Mail , handed it to her daughter, and indicated with an agitated forefinger the paragraph of interest.

Lenox read it without any of the signs of agitation shown by her mother. She handed back the paper.

“What about it?” she asked. “It is the sort of thing that is always happening. Cheeseparing old women are always dying in villages and leaving fortunes of millions to their humble companions.”

“Yes, dear, I know,” said her mother, “and I dare say the fortune is not anything like as large as they say it is; newspapers are so inaccurate. But even if you cut it down by half⁠—”

“Well,” said Lenox, “it has not been left to us.”