We shall see how my proposals were met on the husband’s side.

At the time when Miss Halcombe’s letter reached me I was even more busily occupied than usual.  But I contrived to make leisure for the settlement.  I had drawn it, and had sent it for approval to Sir Percival’s solicitor, in less than a week from the time when Miss Halcombe had informed me of the proposed marriage.

After a lapse of two days the document was returned to me, with notes and remarks of the baronet’s lawyer.  His objections, in general, proved to be of the most trifling and technical kind, until he came to the clause relating to the twenty thousand pounds.  Against this there were double lines drawn in red ink, and the following note was appended to them—­

“Not admissible.  The principal to go to Sir Percival Glyde, in the event of his surviving Lady Glyde, and there being no issue.”

That is to say, not one farthing of the twenty thousand pounds was to go to Miss Halcombe, or to any other relative or friend of Lady Glyde’s.  The whole sum, if she left no children, was to slip into the pockets of her husband.

The answer I wrote to this audacious proposal was as short and sharp as I could make it.  “My dear sir.  Miss Fairlie’s settlement.  I maintain the clause to which you object, exactly as it stands.  Yours truly.”  The rejoinder came back in a quarter of an hour.  “My dear sir.  Miss Fairlie’s settlement.  I maintain the red ink to which you object, exactly as it stands.  Yours truly.”  In the detestable slang of the day, we were now both “at a deadlock,” and nothing was left for it but to refer to our clients on either side.

As matters stood, my client—­Miss Fairlie not having yet completed her twenty-first year—­Mr. Frederick Fairlie, was her guardian.  I wrote by that day’s post, and put the case before him exactly as it stood, not only urging every argument I could think of to induce him to maintain the clause as I had drawn it, but stating to him plainly the mercenary motive which was at the bottom of the opposition to my settlement of the twenty thousand pounds.  The knowledge of Sir Percival’s affairs which I had necessarily gained when the provisions of the deed on his side were submitted in due course to my examination, had but too plainly informed me that the debts on his estate were enormous, and that his income, though nominally a large one, was virtually, for a man in his position, next to nothing.  The want of ready money was the practical necessity of Sir Percival’s existence, and his lawyer’s note on the clause in the settlement was nothing but the frankly selfish expression of it.