“Aye, more like than not.”

“Why, then we may count half the estate gone; and the peril is to be run again, and thus all cast away for nought.”

In this manner did Simon halt betwixt two ways like one distracted, but only he did mingle a mass of sacred words with his arguments which seemed to me nought but profanity, his sole concern being the gain of money.  Then he falls to the old excuses Don Sanchez had told us of, saying he had no money of his own, and offering to show his books that we might see he had taken not one penny beyond his bare expenses from the estate, save his yearly wage, and that no more than Sir Richard had given him in his lifetime.  And on Don Sanchez showing Mrs. Godwin’s letter as a fitting authority to draw out this money for her use, he first feigns to doubt her hand, and then says he:  “If an accident befalls these two women ere they return to justify me, how shall I answer to the next heir for this outlay?  Verily” (clasping his hands) “I am as one standing in darkness, and I dare not move until I am better enlightened; so prithee, friend, give me time to commune with my conscience.”

Don Sanchez hunches up his shoulders and turns to us.

“Why, look here, Master,” says Dawson.  “I can’t see as you need much enlightenment to answer yes or no to a fair offer, and as for me, I’m not going to hang in a hedge for a blue moon.  So if you won’t clap hands on the bargain without more ado, I throw this business overboard and shall count I’ve done the best day’s work of my life in getting out of the affair.”

Then I made as if I would willingly draw out of my share in the project.

“My friends,” says Simon, “there can be scarce any hope at all if thou wilt not hazard thy money for such a prodigious advantage.”  Then turning to Peter as his last hope, he asks in despair, “What shall we do, my brother?”

“We can keep on a-praying, friend Simon,” replies Peter, in a snivelling voice.

“A blessed thought!” exclaims the steward in glee.  “Surely that is more righteous than to lay faith in our own vain effort.  So do thou, friend” (turning to me), “put thy money to this use, for I will none.”

“I cannot do that, sir,” says I, “without an assurance that Mrs. Godwin’s estate will bear this charge.”

With wondrous alacrity Simon fetches a book with a plan of the estate, whereby he showed us that not a holding on the estate was untenanted, not a single tenant in arrear with his rent, and that the value of the property with all deductions made was sixty-five thousand pounds.

“Very good sir,” says I.  “Now you must give me a written note, stating what you have shown, with your sanction to my making this venture on Mrs. Godwin’s behalf, that I may justify my claim hereafter.”

But this Simon stoutly refused to do, saying his conscience would not allow him to sign any bond (clearly with the hope that he might in the end shuffle out of paying anything at all), until Don Sanchez, losing patience, declared he would certainly hunt all London through to find that Mr. Richard Godwin, who was the next of kin, hinting that he would certainly give us such sanction as we required if only to prove his right to the succession should our venture fail.