e.
He was a good sort, poor old Tom.'

She dressed herself as becomingly and quietly as she could, and, after
looking up the law of intestacy in Whitaker, concluded that Marmaduke
Cairns's old sisters must be the heirs. Then she sallied forth to beard
the solicitor in his den. The den was a magnificent suite of offices
just off the Strand. She was ushered into a waiting-room partitioned off
from the general office by glass. It was all very frowsy and hot. There
was nothing to read except the _Times_ and she was uncomfortably
conscious of three clerks and an office boy who frequently turned round
and looked through the partition. At last she was ushered in. The
solicitor was a dry-looking man of forty or so; his parchment face,
deeply wrinkled right and left, his keen blue eyes and high forehead
impressed her as dangerous. He motioned her to an armchair on the other
side of his desk.

'Well, Mrs Ferris,' he said, 'to what do I owe the honour of this
visit?' He sat back in his armchair and bit his penholder. A smile
elongated his thin lips. This was his undoing, for he looked less
formidable and Victoria decided on a line of action. She had come
disturbed, now she was on her mettle.

'Mr Bastable,' she said, plunging at once into the subject, 'you ask me
to surrender my furniture. I'm not going to.'

'Oh?' The solicitor raised his eyebrows. 'But, my dear madame, surely
you must see . . .'

'I do. But I'm not going to.'

'Well,' he said, 'I hardly see . . . My duty will compel me to take
steps . . .'

'Of course,' said Victoria smiling, 'but if you refuse to let me alone I
shall go out of this office, have the furniture moved to-day and put up
at auction to-morrow.'

A smile came over the solicitor's face. By Jove, she was a fine woman,
and she had some spirit.

'Besides,' she added, 'all this would cause me a great deal of
annoyance. Major Cairns's affairs are still very interesting to the
public. I shall be compelled, if you make me sell, to write a serial,
say _My Life with an Irish Martyr_ for a Sunday paper.'

Mr Bastable laughed frankly.

'You want to be nasty, I see. But you know, we can stop your sale by an
application to a judge in chambers this afternoon. And as for your
serial, well, Major Cairns is dead, he won't mind.'

'No, but his aunts will. Their name is Cairns. As regards the sale,
perhaps you and the other lawyers can stop it. Very well, either you
promise or I go home and . . . perhaps