Sir George stooped to explain.  ‘I have no near relations,’ he said shortly.  ’Lord Chatham—­he was then Mr. Pitt—­was the executor of my grandfather’s will, is connected with me by marriage, and at one time acted as my guardian.’

Mr. Fishwick licked his lips as if he tasted something very good.  This was business indeed!  These were names with a vengeance!  His face shone with satisfaction; he acquired a sudden stiffness of the spine.  ’Very good, sir,’ he said.  ‘Ve—­ry good,’ he said.  ’In fee simple, I understand?’

‘Yes.’

’Precisely.  Precisely; no uses or trusts?  No.  Unnecessary of course.  Then as to personalty, Sir George?’

’A legacy of five hundred guineas to George Augustus Selwyn, Esquire, of Matson, Gloucestershire.  One of the same amount to Sir Charles Bunbury, Baronet.  Five hundred guineas to each of my executors; and to each of these four a mourning ring.’

‘Certainly, sir.  All very noble gifts!’ And Mr. Fishwick smacked his lips.

For a moment Sir George looked his offence; then seeing that the attorney’s ecstasy was real and unaffected, he smiled.  ’To my land-steward two hundred guineas,’ he said; ’to my house-steward one hundred guineas, to the housekeeper at Estcombe an annuity of twenty guineas.  Ten guineas and a suit of mourning to each of my upper servants not already mentioned, and the rest of my personalty—­’

‘After payment of debts and funeral and testamentary expenses,’ the lawyer murmured, writing busily.

Sir George started at the words, and stared thoughtfully before him:  he was silent so long that the lawyer recalled his attention by gently repeating, ‘And the residue, honoured sir?’

‘To the Thatched House Society for the relief of small debtors,’ Sir George answered, between a sigh and a smile.  And added, ’They will not gain much by it, poor devils!’

Mr. Fishwick with a rather downcast air noted the bequest.  ’And that is all, sir, I think?’ he said with his head on one side.  ’Except the appointment of executors.’

‘No,’ Sir George answered curtly.  ’It is not all.  Take this down and be careful.  As to the trust fund of fifty thousand pounds’—­the attorney gasped, and his eyes shone as he seized the pen anew.  ’Take this down carefully, man, I say,’ Sir George continued.  ’As to the trust fund left by my grandfather’s will to my uncle Anthony Soane or his heirs conditionally on his or their returning to their allegiance and claiming it within the space of twenty-one years from the date of his will, the interest in the meantime to be paid to me for my benefit, and the principal sum, failing such return, to become mine as fully as if it had vested in me from the beginning—­’

‘Ah!’ said the attorney, scribbling fast, and with distended cheeks.

‘I leave the said fund to go with the land.’

‘To go with the land,’ the lawyer repeated as he wrote the words.  ’Fifty thousand pounds!  Prodigious!  Prodigious!  Might I ask, sir, the date of your respected grandfather’s will?’