I am about to seal it up that it may be given to you after my death; and you will then know why I disinherit you.

S.V." Lionel gazed on the lines like one in a dream.

They were in the handwriting of his uncle.

Understand them, he could not.

He took up the glove--a thick, fawn-coloured riding-glove--and remembered it for one of his own.