Mr. Fiddlestick: If your Lordship pleases.
* * * * *
Augusta put down the paper with a gasp. There was she, safe and sound,
with the true last will of Mr. Meeson tattooed upon her; and "probate had
issued"--whatever that mysterious formula might mean--to another will,
not the real last will. It meant (as she in her ignorance supposed) that
her will was no good, that she had endured that abominable tattooing to
no purpose, and was, to no purpose, scarred for life.
It was too much; and, in a fit of vexation, she flung the _Times_ out of
the window, and cast herself back on the cushion, feeling very much
inclined to cry.
CHAPTER XIII.
EUSTACE BUYS A PAPER.
In due course the train that bore Augusta and her fortunes, timed to
reach Waterloo at 5.40 p.m., rolled into the station. The train was a
fast one, but the telegraph had been faster. All the evening papers had
come out with accounts, more or less accurate, of their escape, and most
of them had added that the two survivors would reach Waterloo by the 5.40
train. The consequence was, that when the train drew up at the platform,
Augusta, on looking out, was horrified to see a dense mass of human
beings being kept in check by a line of policemen.
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