stifled, half-laughing voice. "He read his will to Ethel Maywood and Mr. Chessingham, and got them to sign it as witnesses."
The Colonel could do nothing but gasp for a few moments. Then he lapsed into an amazed silence—his shaggy brows drawn together, and his deep-set eyes fixed on Letty's agitated face.
"And there is something else Ethel Maywood said," kept on Letty, with her face growing scarlet, "something that made me very angry with Mr. Romaine, and I don't like him, anyhow," she said.
"Go on," commanded the Colonel, in a tragic basso.
"She thinks—that—that—Mr. Romaine wants to m-m-marry me—and he fancies this will win me over," said Letty, faintly.
"The old ass!" bawled the Colonel, for once roused out of his placid dignity. "Excuse me, my love, but this is simply too preposterous! When you first spoke, I assure you, I was alarmed—I was actually alarmed—I thought you did not know what you were saying. But, on reflection, knowing, as I do, Romaine's perverse and peculiar character, I can wholly believe what you tell me."
