BOOK I: THE WILL OF ROGER MELTON
THE READING OF THE WILL OF ROGER MELTON AND ALL THAT FOLLOWED
Record made by Ernest Roger Halbard Melton, law-student of the Inner
Temple, eldest son of Ernest Halbard Melton, eldest son of Ernest
Melton, elder brother of the said Roger Melton and his next of kin.
I consider it at least useful--perhaps necessary--to have a complete
and accurate record of all pertaining to the Will of my late grand-
uncle Roger Melton.
To which end let me put down the various members of his family, and
explain some of their occupations and idiosyncrasies. My father,
Ernest Halbard Melton, was the only son of Ernest Melton, eldest son
of Sir Geoffrey Halbard Melton of Humcroft, in the shire of Salop, a
Justice of the Peace, and at one time Sheriff. My great-grandfather,
Sir Geoffrey, had inherited a small estate from his father, Roger
Melton. In his time, by the way, the name was spelled Milton; but my
great-great-grandfather changed the spelling to the later form, as he
was a practical man not given to sentiment, and feared lest he should
in the public eye be confused with others belonging to the family of
a Radical person called Milton, who wrote poetry and was some sort of
official in the time of Cromwell, whilst we are Conservatives. The
same practical spirit which originated the change in the spelling of
the family name inclined him to go into business. So he became,
whilst still young, a tanner and leather-dresser. He utilized for
the purpose the ponds and streams, and also the oak-woods on his
estate--Torraby in Suffolk. He made a fine business, and accumulated
a considerable fortune, with a part of which he purchased the
Shropshire estate, which he entailed, and to which I am therefore
heir-apparent.
Sir Geoffrey had, in addition to my grandfather, three sons and a
daughter, the latter being born twenty years after her youngest
brother. These sons were: Geoffrey, who died without issue, having
been killed in the Indian Mutiny at Meerut in 1857, at which he took
up a sword, though a civilian, to fight for his life; Roger (to whom
I shall refer presently); and John--the latter, like Geoffrey, dying
unmarried. Out of Sir Geoffrey's family of five, therefore, only
three have to be considered: My grandfather, who had three children,
two of whom, a son and a daughter, died young, leaving only my
father, Roger and Patience. Patience, who was born in 1858, married
an Irishman of the name of Sellenger--which was the usual way of
pronouncing the name of St. Leger, or, as they spelled it, Sent
Leger--restored by later generations to the still older form. He was
a reckless, dare-devil sort of fellow, then a Captain in the Lancers,
a man not without the quality of bravery--he won the Victoria Cross
at the Battle of Amoaful in the Ashantee Campaign. But I fear he
lacked the seriousness and steadfast strenuous purpose which my
father always says marks the character of our own family. He ran
through nearly all of his patrimony--never a very large one; and had
it not been for my grand-aunt's little fortune, his days, had he
lived, must have ended in comparative poverty. Comparative, not
actual; for the Meltons, who are persons of considerable pride, would
not have tolerated a poverty-stricken branch of the family. We don't
think much of that lot--any of us.
Fortunately, my great-aunt Patience had only one child, and the
premature decease of Captain St. Leger (as I prefer to call the name)
did not allow of the possibility of her having more. She did not
marry again, though my grandmother tried several times to arrange an
alliance for her. She was, I am told, always a stiff, uppish person,
who would not yield herself to the wisdom of her superiors. Her own
child was a son, who seemed to take his character rather from his
father's family than from my own. He was a wastrel and a rolling
stone, always in scrapes at school, and always wanting to do
ridiculous things. My father, as Head of the House and his own
senior by eighteen years, tried often to admonish him; but his
perversity of spirit and his truculence were such that he had to
desist. Indeed, I have heard my father say that he sometimes
threatened his life. A desperate character he was, and almost devoid
of reverence. No one, not even my father, had any influence--good
influence, of course, I mean--over him, except his mother, who was of
my family; and also a woman who lived with her--a sort of governess--
aunt, he called her. The way of it was this: Captain St. Leger had
a younger brother, who made an improvident marriage with a Scotch
girl when they were both very young. They had nothing to live on
except what the reckless Lancer gave them, for he had next to nothing
himself, and she was "bare"--which is, I understand, the indelicate
Scottish way of expressing lack of fortune. She was, however, I
understand, of an old and somewhat good family, though broken in
fortune--to use an expression which, however, could hardly be used
precisely in regard to a family or a person who never had fortune to
be broken in! It was so far well that the MacKelpies--that was the
maiden name of Mrs. St. Leger--were reputable--so far as fighting was
concerned. It would have been too humiliating to have allied to our
family, even on the distaff side, a family both poor and of no
account. Fighting alone does not make a family, I think. Soldiers
are not everything, though they think they are. We have had in our
family men who fought; but I never heard of any of them who fought
because they WANTED to. Mrs. St. Leger had a sister; fortunately
there were only those two children in the family, or else they would
all have had to be supported by the money of my family.
Mr. St. Leger, who was only a subaltern, was killed at Maiwand; and
his wife was left a beggar. Fortunately, however, she died--her
sister spread a story that it was from the shock and grief--before
the child which she expected was born. This all happened when my
cousin--or, rather, my father's cousin, my first-cousin-once-removed,
to be accurate--was still a very small child. His mother then sent
for Miss MacKelpie, her brother-in-law's sister-in-law, to come and
live with her, which she did--beggars can't be choosers; and she
helped to bring up young St. Leger.
I remember once my father giving me a sovereign for making a witty
remark about her. I was quite a boy then, not more than thirteen;
but our family were always clever from the very beginning of life,
and father was telling me about the St. Leger family. My family
hadn't, of course, seen anything of them since Captain St. Leger
died--the circle to which we belong don't care for poor relations--
and was explaining where Miss MacKelpie came in. She must have been
a sort of nursery governess, for Mrs. St. Leger once told him that
she helped her to educate the child.
"Then, father," I said, "if she helped to educate the child she ought
to have been called Miss MacSkelpie!"
When my first-cousin-once-removed, Rupert, was twelve years old, his
mother died, and he was in the dolefuls about it for more than a
year. Miss MacKelpie kept on living with him all the same. Catch
her quitting! That sort don't go into the poor-house when they can
keep out! My father, being Head of the Family, was, of course, one
of the trustees, and his uncle Roger, brother of the testator,
another. The third was General MacKelpie, a poverty-stricken Scotch
laird who had a lot of valueless land at Croom, in Ross-shire. I
remember father gave me a new ten-pound note when I interrupted him
whilst he was telling me of the incident of young St. Leger's
improvidence by remarking that he was in error as to the land. From
what I had heard of MacKelpie's estate, it was productive of one
thing; when he asked me "What?" I answered "Mortgages!" Father, I
knew, had bought, not long before, a lot of them at what a college
friend of mine from Chicago used to call "cut-throat" price. When I
remonstrated with my father for buying them at all, and so injuring
the family estate which I was to inherit, he gave me an answer, the
astuteness of which I have never forgotten.
"I did it so that I might keep my hand on the bold General, in case
he should ever prove troublesome. And if the worst should ever come
to the worst, Croom is a good country for grouse and stags!" My
father can see as far as most men!
When my cousin--I shall call him cousin henceforth in this record,
lest it might seem to any unkind person who might hereafter read it
that I wished to taunt Rupert St. Leger with his somewhat obscure
position, in reiterating his real distance in kinship with my family-
-when my cousin, Rupert St. Leger, wished to commit a certain idiotic
act of financial folly, he approached my father on the subject,
arriving at our estate, Humcroft, at an inconvenient time, without
permission, not having had even the decent courtesy to say he was
coming. I was then a little chap of six years old, but I could not
help noticing his mean appearance. He was all dusty and dishevelled.
When my father saw him--I came into the study with him--he said in a
horrified voice:
"Good God!" He was further shocked when the boy brusquely
acknowledged, in reply to my father's greeting, that he had travelled
third class. Of course, none of my family ever go anything but first
class; even the servants go second. My father was really angry when
he said he had walked up from the station.
"A nice spectacle for my tenants and my tradesmen! To see my--my--a
kinsman of my house, howsoever remote, trudging like a tramp on the
road to my estate! Why, my avenue is two miles and a perch! No
wonder you are filthy and insolent!" Rupert--really, I cannot call
him cousin here--was exceedingly impertinent to my father.
"I walked, sir, because I had no money; but I assure you I did not
mean to be insolent. I simply came here because I wished to ask your
advice and assistance, not because you are an important person, and
have a long avenue--as I know to my cost--but simply because you are
one of my trustees."
"YOUR trustees, sirrah!" said my father, interrupting him. "Your
trustees?"
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, quite quietly. "I meant the
trustees of my dear mother's will."
"And what, may I ask you," said father, "do you want in the way of
advice from one of the trustees of your dear mother's will?" Rupert
got very red, and was going to say something rude--I knew it from his
look--but he stopped, and said in the same gentle way:
"I want your advice, sir, as to the best way of doing something which
I wish to do, and, as I am under age, cannot do myself. It must be
done through the trustees of my mother's will."
"And the assistance for which you wish?" said father, putting his
hand in his pocket. I know what that action means when I am talking
to him.
"The assistance I want," said Rupert, getting redder than ever, "is
from my--the trustee also. To carry out what I want to do."
"And what may that be?" asked my father. "I would like, sir, to make
over to my Aunt Janet--" My father interrupted him by asking--he had
evidently remembered my jest:
"Miss MacSkelpie?" Rupert got still redder, and I turned away; I
didn't quite wish that he should see me laughing. He went on
quietly:
"MACKELPIE, sir! Miss Janet MacKelpie, my aunt, who has always been
so kind to me, and whom my mother loved--I want to have made over to
her the money which my dear mother left to me." Father doubtless
wished to have the matter take a less serious turn, for Rupert's eyes
were all shiny with tears which had not fallen; so after a little
pause he said, with indignation, which I knew was simulated:
"Have you forgotten your mother so soon, Rupert, that you wish to
give away the very last gift which she bestowed on you?" Rupert was
sitting, but he jumped up and stood opposite my father with his fist
clenched. He was quite pale now, and his eyes looked so fierce that
I thought he would do my father an injury. He spoke in a voice which
did not seem like his own, it was so strong and deep.
"Sir!" he roared out. I suppose, if I was a writer, which, thank
God, I am not--I have no need to follow a menial occupation--I would
call it "thundered." "Thundered" is a longer word than "roared," and
would, of course, help to gain the penny which a writer gets for a
line. Father got pale too, and stood quite still. Rupert looked at
him steadily for quite half a minute--it seemed longer at the time--
and suddenly smiled and said, as he sat down again:
"Sorry. But, of course, you don't understand such things." Then he
went on talking before father had time to say a word.
"Let us get back to business. As you do not seem to follow me, let
me explain that it is BECAUSE I do not forget that I wish to do this.
I remember my dear mother's wish to make Aunt Janet happy, and would
like to do as she did."
"AUNT Janet?" said father, very properly sneering at his ignorance.
"She is not your aunt. Why, even her sister, who was married to your
uncle, was only your aunt by courtesy." I could not help feeling
that Rupert meant to be rude to my father, though his words were
quite polite. If I had been as much bigger than him as he was than
me, I should have flown at him; but he was a very big boy for his
age. I am myself rather thin. Mother says thinness is an "appanage
of birth."
"My Aunt Janet, sir, is an aunt by love. Courtesy is a small word to
use in connection with such devotion as she has given to us. But I
needn't trouble you with such things, sir. I take it that my
relations on the side of my own house do not affect you. I am a Sent
Leger!" Father looked quite taken aback. He sat quite still before
he spoke.
"Well, Mr. St. Leger, I shall think over the matter for a while, and
shall presently let you know my decision. In the meantime, would you
like something to eat? I take it that as you must have started very
early, you have not had any breakfast?" Rupert smiled quite
genially:
"That is true, sir. I haven't broken bread since dinner last night,
and I am ravenously hungry." Father rang the bell, and told the
footman who answered it to send the housekeeper. When she came,
father said to her:
"Mrs. Martindale, take this boy to your room and give him some
breakfast." Rupert stood very still for some seconds. His face had
got red again after his paleness. Then he bowed to my father, and
followed Mrs. Martindale, who had moved to the door.
Nearly an hour afterwards my father sent a servant to tell him to
come to the study. My mother was there, too, and I had gone back
with her. The man came back and said:
"Mrs. Martindale, sir, wishes to know, with her respectful service,
if she may have a word with you." Before father could reply mother
told him to bring her. The housekeeper could not have been far off--
that kind are generally near a keyhole--for she came at once. When
she came in, she stood at the door curtseying and looking pale.
Father said:
"Well?"
"I thought, sir and ma'am, that I had better come and tell you about
Master Sent Leger. I would have come at once, but I feared to
disturb you."
"Well?" Father had a stern way with servants. When I'm head of the
family I'll tread them under my feet. That's the way to get real
devotion from servants!
"If you please, sir, I took the young gentleman into my room and
ordered a nice breakfast for him, for I could see he was half
famished--a growing boy like him, and so tall! Presently it came
along. It was a good breakfast, too! The very smell of it made even
me hungry. There were eggs and frizzled ham, and grilled kidneys,
and coffee, and buttered toast, and bloater-paste--"
"That will do as to the menu," said mother. "Go on!"
"When it was all ready, and the maid had gone, I put a chair to the
table and said, 'Now, sir, your breakfast is ready!' He stood up and
said, 'Thank you, madam; you are very kind!' and he bowed to me quite
nicely, just as if I was a lady, ma'am!"
"Go on," said mother.
"Then, sir, he held out his hand and said, 'Good-bye, and thank you,'
and he took up his cap.
"'But aren't you going to have any breakfast, sir?' I says.
"'No, thank you, madam,' he said; 'I couldn't eat here . . . in this
house, I mean!' Well, ma'am, he looked so lonely that I felt my
heart melting, and I ventured to ask him if there was any mortal
thing I could do for him. 'Do tell me, dear,' I ventured to say. 'I
am an old woman, and you, sir, are only a boy, though it's a fine man
you will be--like your dear, splendid father, which I remember so
well, and gentle like your poor dear mother.'
"'You're a dear!' he says; and with that I took up his hand and
kissed it, for I remember his poor dear mother so well, that was dead
only a year. Well, with that he turned his head away, and when I
took him by the shoulders and turned him round--he is only a young
boy, ma'am, for all he is so big--I saw that the tears were rolling
down his cheeks. With that I laid his head on my breast--I've had
children of my own, ma'am, as you know, though they're all gone. He
came willing enough, and sobbed for a little bit. Then he
straightened himself up, and I stood respectfully beside him.
"'Tell Mr. Melton,' he said, 'that I shall not trouble him about the
trustee business.'
"'But won't you tell him yourself, sir, when you see him?' I says.
"'I shall not see him again,' he says; 'I am going back now!'
"Well, ma'am, I knew he'd had no breakfast, though he was hungry, and
that he would walk as he come, so I ventured to say: 'If you won't
take it a liberty, sir, may I do anything to make your going easier?
Have you sufficient money, sir? If not, may I give, or lend, you
some? I shall be very proud if you will allow me to.'
"'Yes,' he says quite hearty. 'If you will, you might lend me a
shilling, as I have no money. I shall not forget it.' He said, as
he took the coin: 'I shall return the amount, though I never can the
kindness. I shall keep the coin.' He took the shilling, sir--he
wouldn't take any more--and then he said good-bye. At the door he
turned and walked back to me, and put his arms round me like a real
boy does, and gave me a hug, and says he:
"'Thank you a thousand times, Mrs. Martindale, for your goodness to
me, for your sympathy, and for the way you have spoken of my father
and mother. You have seen me cry, Mrs. Martindale,' he said; 'I
don't often cry: the last time was when I came back to the lonely
house after my poor dear was laid to rest. But you nor any other
shall ever see a tear of mine again.' And with that he straightened
out his big back and held up his fine proud head, and walked out. I
saw him from the window striding down the avenue. My! but he is a
proud boy, sir--an honour to your family, sir, say I respectfully.
And there, the proud child has gone away hungry, and he won't, I
know, ever use that shilling to buy food!"
Father was not going to have that, you know, so he said to her:
"He does not belong to my family, I would have you to know. True, he
is allied to us through the female side; but we do not count him or
his in my family." He turned away and began to read a book. It was
a decided snub to her.
But mother had a word to say before Mrs. Martindale was done with.
Mother has a pride of her own, and doesn't brook insolence from
inferiors; and the housekeeper's conduct seemed to be rather
presuming. Mother, of course, isn't quite our class, though her folk
are quite worthy and enormously rich. She is one of the
Dalmallingtons, the salt people, one of whom got a peerage when the
Conservatives went out. She said to the housekeeper:
"I think, Mrs. Martindale, that I shall not require your services
after this day month! And as I don't keep servants in my employment
when I dismiss them, here is your month's wages due on the 25th of
this month, and another month in lieu of notice. Sign this receipt."
She was writing a receipt as she spoke. The other signed it without
a word, and handed it to her. She seemed quite flabbergasted.
Mother got up and sailed--that is the way that mother moves when she
is in a wax--out of the room.
Lest I should forget it, let me say here that the dismissed
housekeeper was engaged the very next day by the Countess of Salop.
I may say in explanation that the Earl of Salop, K.G., who is Lord-
Lieutenant of the County, is jealous of father's position and his
growing influence. Father is going to contest the next election on
the Conservative side, and is sure to be made a Baronet before long.
Letter from Major-General Sir Colin Alexander MacKelpie, V.C.,
K.C.B., of Croom, Ross, N.B., to Rupert Sent Leger, Esq., 14, Newland
Park, Dulwich, London, S.E.
July 4, 1892.
MY DEAR GODSON,
I am truly sorry I am unable to agree with your request that I should
acquiesce in your desire to transfer to Miss Janet MacKelpie the
property bequeathed to you by your mother, of which property I am a
trustee. Let me say at once that, had it been possible to me to do
so, I should have held it a privilege to further such a wish--not
because the beneficiare whom you would create is a near kinswoman of
my own. That, in truth, is my real difficulty. I have undertaken a
trust made by an honourable lady on behalf of her only son--son of a
man of stainless honour, and a dear friend of my own, and whose son
has a rich heritage of honour from both parents, and who will, I am
sure, like to look back on his whole life as worthy of his parents,
and of those whom his parents trusted. You will see, I am sure, that
whatsoever I might grant regarding anyone else, my hands are tied in
this matter.
And now let me say, my dear boy, that your letter has given me the
most intense pleasure. It is an unspeakable delight to me to find in
the son of your father--a man whom I loved, and a boy whom I love--
the same generosity of spirit which endeared your father to all his
comrades, old as well as young. Come what may, I shall always be
proud of you; and if the sword of an old soldier--it is all I have--
can ever serve you in any way, it and its master's life are, and
shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours.
It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given
that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence.
But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more.
Then, if you are in the same mind--and I am sure you will not change-
-you, being your own master, can do freely as you will. In the
meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any
malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit
semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived
in any form from my estate of Croom. It is, I am sorry to say,
heavily mortgaged; but of such as is--or may be, free from such
charge as the mortgage entails--something at least will, I trust,
remain to her. And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me
a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this
association of purpose. I have always held you in my heart as though
you were my own son. Let me tell you now that you have acted as I
should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to
have acted. God bless you, my dear.
Yours ever,
COLIN ALEX. MACKELPIE.
Letter from Roger Melton, of Openshaw Grange, to Rupert Sent Leger,
Esq., 14, Newland Park, Dulwich, London, S.E.
July 1, 1892.
MY DEAR NEPHEW,
Your letter of the 30th ult. received. Have carefully considered
matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a
trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish. Let me
explain. The testator, in making her will, intended that such
fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her
son such benefits as its annual product should procure. To this end,
and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or,
indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might
impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your
education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate
directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined
about it. But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in
the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and
strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements
or pressure which might be employed to the contrary. It being her
intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for
your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at
command, AND THAT ONLY (as specifically directed in the will), so
that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should
be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the
matter of adhering exactly to the directions given. I have no doubt
that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light.
Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a
single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator's
wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying
out of that duty. I take it, therefore, that it would not be
consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in
accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself
which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other
of the co-trustees. We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of
this duty without fear or favour. You understand, of course, that
the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession
of your estate is a limited one. As by the terms of the will we are
to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one,
there are only seven years to expire. But till then, though I should
gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I
have undertaken. At the expiration of that period you will be quite
free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of
any man.
Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I
am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in
any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most
happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me.
Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my
co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes. In
my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your
own way. But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you
have only life-user in your mother's bequest, you are only at liberty
to deal with the annual increment. On our part as trustees we have a
first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your
maintenance, clothes, and education. As to what may remain over each
half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose. On
receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you
desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet
MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected. Believe me, that our
duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may
not act on any instruction to imperil it. But there our warranty
stops. We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only.
Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal
with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain
unrevoked. You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or
authorizations at any time. Thus your latest document must be used
for our guidance.
As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment.
You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will. I quite
understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe
that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my
sister. Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your
intent, I am convinced that she would have approved. Therefore, my
dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as
well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential
matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to
that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie. On hearing
from you I shall know how to act in the matter. With all good
wishes,
Believe me to be,
Your affectionate uncle,
ROGER MELTON.
TO RUPERT SENT LEGER, ESQ.
Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton,
July 5, 1892.
MY DEAR UNCLE,
Thank you heartily for your kind letter. I quite understand, and now
see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing. I
see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it. I enclose a
letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till
further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever
sum may remain over from the interest of my mother's bequest after
deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance,
clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling
per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my
personal use--"pocket-money," she called it.
With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear
Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in
my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt
(to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you
specially authorize me) and myself. But, indeed, I think it will be
better not to offer it. Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not
accept any benefit. With me, of course, it is different, for since I
was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love
her very much. Since my mother died--and she, of course, was all-in-
all to me--there has been no other. And in such a love as ours pride
has no place. Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you.
Your loving nephew,
RUPERT SENT LEGER.
