will it?"

"No--hardly. I had thought of it."

"You see--you can't do anything without injuring yourself. I can settle
the whole affair in half an hour. By return of post you'll get a letter
from her telling you that she has abandoned all idea of proceedings
against Crosby."

"I'll bet you she doesn't," said Brook.

"Anything you like. It's perfectly simple. I'll just make a will,
leaving you nothing at all, if you marry her, and I'll send her a copy
to-day. You'll get the answer fast enough."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Brook, in surprise. Then he thoughtfully relighted
his pipe and threw the match out of the window. "I say, Governor," he
added after a pause, "do you think that's quite--well, quite fair and
square, you know?"

"What on earth do you mean?" cried Sir Adam. "Do you mean to tell me
that I haven't a perfect right to leave my money as I please? And that
the first adventuress who takes a fancy to it has a right to force you
into a disgraceful marriage, and that it would be dishonourable of me to
prevent it if I could? You're mad, boy! Don't talk such nonsense to me!"

"I suppose I'm an idiot," said Brook. "Things about money so easily get
a queer look, you know. It's not like other things, is it?"

"Look here, Brook," answered the old man, taking his feet from the chair
on which they rested, and sitting up straight in the low easy chair.
"People have said a lot of things about me in my life, and I'll do the
world the credit to add that it might have said twice as much with a
good show of truth. But nobody ever said that I was mean, nor that I
ever disappointed anybody in money matters who had a right to expect
something of me. And that's pretty conclusive evidence, because I'm a
Scotch-man, and we are generally supposed to be a close-fisted tribe.
They've said everything about me that the world can say, except that
I've told you about my first marriage. She--she got her divorce, you
know. She had a perfect right to it."

The old man lit another cigarette, and sipped his brandy and soda
thoughtfully.

"I don't like to talk about money," he said in a lower tone. "But I
don't want you to think me mean, Brook. I allowed her a thousand a year
after she had got rid of me. She never touched it. She isn't that kind.
She would rather starve ten times over. But the money has been paid to
her account in London for twenty-seven years. Perhaps she doesn't know
it. All the better for her daughter, who will find it a