Think you,
master, the old tyke has pull'd it down wi' scratching?"
"Gilbert," said my uncle solemnly, "I don't like these jests of thine.
Save them, I prithee, for fitter subjects. The will is what we came for.
Let us dispose of that quietly, and I promise thee I'll never set foot
here again."
As he spoke he approached the candle--it was just within my view--and
opened the will that it might yield the more readily to the blaze. I
watched him evidently preparing to consume a document with which I felt
convinced my welfare and interests were intimately connected. There was
not a moment to be lost; but how to get possession was no easy
contrivance. If I sallied forth to its rescue they might murder me, or
at least prevent its falling into my hands. This plan could only prolong
its existence a few moments, and would to a certainty ensure its
eventual destruction. Gilbert's dissertation on the occupations and
amusements of the ghosts came very opportunely to my aid, and
immediately I put into execution what now appeared my only hope of its
safety. Just as a corner of the paper was entering the flame I gave a
pretty loud scratch, at the same time anxiously observing the effect it
might produce.
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