“Although I have never had the pleasure of meeting you before, I have acted as Colonel Barrington’s legal adviser ever since he settled at Silverdale, and am, therefore, well posted as to his affairs, which are, of course, connected with those of your own family,” said the lawyer.  “We can accordingly talk with greater freedom, and I hope without the acerbity which in your recent communications somewhat annoyed the Colonel.”

“Well,” said Winston, who had never heard of Colonel Barrington, “I am ready to listen.”

The lawyer drummed on the table.  “It might be best to come to the point at once,” he said.  “Colonel Barrington does not deem it convenient that you should settle at Silverdale, and would be prepared to offer you a reasonable sum to relinquish your claim.”

“My claim?” said Winston, who remembered having heard of the Silverdale Colony which lay several hundred miles away.

“Of course,” said the lawyer.  “The legacy lately left you by Roger Courthorne.  I have brought you a schedule of the wheat in store, and amounts due to you on various sales made.  You will also find the acreage, stock, and implements detailed at a well-known appraiser’s valuation, which you could of course confirm, and Colonel Barrington would hand you a check for half the total now.  He, however, asks four years to pay the balance in, which would carry bank interest in the meanwhile.”

Winston, who was glad of the excuse, spent at least ten minutes studying the paper, and realized that it referred to a large and well-appointed farm, though it occurred to him that the crop was a good deal smaller than it should have been.  He noticed this as it were instinctively, for his brain was otherwise very busy.

“Colonel Barrington seems somewhat anxious to get rid of me,” he said.  “You see, this land is mine by right.”

“Yes,” said the lawyer.  “Colonel Barrington does not dispute it, though I am of opinion that he might have done so under one clause of the will.  I do not think we need discuss his motives.”

Winston moistened his lips with his tongue, and his lips quivered a little.  He had hitherto been an honest man, and now it was impossible for him to take the money.  It, however, appeared equally impossible to reveal his identity and escape the halter, and he felt that the dead man had wronged him horribly.  He was entitled at least to safety by way of compensation, for by passing as Courthorne he would avoid recognition as Winston.

“Still I do not know how I have offended Colonel Barrington,” he said.

“I would sooner,” said the lawyer, “not go into that.  It is, I fancy, fifteen years since Colonel Barrington saw you, but he desired me to find means of tracing your Canadian record, and did not seem pleased with it.  Nor, at the risk of offending you, could I deem him unduly prejudiced.”

“In fact,” said Winston dryly, “this man who has not seen me for fifteen years is desirous of withholding what is mine from me at almost any cost.”