Mr. Fairlie’s answer reached me by return of post, and proved to be wandering and irrelevant in the extreme.  Turned into plain English, it practically expressed itself to this effect:  “Would dear Gilmore be so very obliging as not to worry his friend and client about such a trifle as a remote contingency?  Was it likely that a young woman of twenty-one would die before a man of forty five, and die without children?  On the other hand, in such a miserable world as this, was it possible to over-estimate the value of peace and quietness?  If those two heavenly blessings were offered in exchange for such an earthly trifle as a remote chance of twenty thousand pounds, was it not a fair bargain?  Surely, yes.  Then why not make it?”

I threw the letter away in disgust.  Just as it had fluttered to the ground, there was a knock at my door, and Sir Percival’s solicitor, Mr. Merriman, was shown in.  There are many varieties of sharp practitioners in this world, but I think the hardest of all to deal with are the men who overreach you under the disguise of inveterate good-humour.  A fat, well fed, smiling, friendly man of business is of all parties to a bargain the most hopeless to deal with.  Mr. Merriman was one of this class.

“And how is good Mr. Gilmore?” he began, all in a glow with the warmth of his own amiability.  “Glad to see you, sir, in such excellent health.  I was passing your door, and I thought I would look in in case you might have something to say to me.  Do—­now pray do let us settle this little difference of ours by word of mouth, if we can!  Have you heard from your client yet?”

“Yes.  Have you heard from yours?”

“My dear, good sir!  I wish I had heard from him to any purpose—­I wish, with all my heart, the responsibility was off my shoulders; but he is obstinate—­or let me rather say, resolute—­and he won’t take it off.  ’Merriman, I leave details to you.  Do what you think right for my interests, and consider me as having personally withdrawn from the business until it is all over.’  Those were Sir Percival’s words a fortnight ago, and all I can get him to do now is to repeat them.  I am not a hard man, Mr. Gilmore, as you know.  Personally and privately, I do assure you, I should like to sponge out that note of mine at this very moment.  But if Sir Percival won’t go into the matter, if Sir Percival will blindly leave all his interests in my sole care, what course can I possibly take except the course of asserting them?  My hands are bound—­don’t you see, my dear sir?—­my hands are bound.”

“You maintain your note on the clause, then, to the letter?” I said.

“Yes—­deuce take it!  I have no other alternative.”  He walked to the fireplace and warmed himself, humming the fag end of a tune in a rich convivial bass voice.  “What does your side say?” he went on; “now pray tell me—­what does your side say?”

I was ashamed to tell him.  I attempted to gain time—­nay, I did worse.  My legal instincts got the better of me, and I even tried to bargain.