'Well--then--this portable fortune belongs to Robert Fletcher's heirs.' 'Not so quick. How are you going to prove your claim? You have nothing to go by but a fragment of writing with part of his name on it. You cannot prove that he was shipwrecked, and if you could do that you could not prove that these jewels belonged to him.' 'If there is no doubt, she ought to give them up. She is bound in honour.' 'I said that in my mind there is no reasonable doubt. That is because I have heard a great deal more than could be admitted in evidence. But now--listen again without interrupting. When, five years ago, the young lady placed the management of her affairs in my hands through the Vicar of her parish, I had every part of her very miscellaneous fortune valued and a part of it sold. I had these rubies examined by a merchant in jewels.' 'And how much were they worth?' 'One with another--some being large and very valuable indeed, and others small--they were said, by my expert, to be worth thirty-five thousand pounds. They might, under favourable circumstances and if judiciously placed in the market realise much more. Thirty-five thousand pounds!' 'What?' He literally opened his mouth. 'How much do you say?' 'Thirty-five thousand pounds.' 'Oh! But the stones are not hers--they belong--they belong--to us--to the descendants of Robert Fletcher.' No one would have called that face wooden, now. It was full of excitement--the excitement of a newly awakened hope. 'Does she propose to buy me off with a thousand pounds? Does she think I am to be bought off at any price? The jewels are mine--mine--that is, I have a share in them.' 'Gently--gently--gently! What proof have you got of this story? Nothing. You never heard of it: your great-grandfather never spoke of it. Nothing would have been heard of it at all but for this old lady from whom Armorel inherited. The property is hers as much as anything else. If she gives up anything it is by her own free and uncompelled will. She need give nothing. Remember that.' 'Then she offers me a miserable thousand pounds for my share--which ought to be at least a third. Jagenal'--he turned purple and the veins stood out on his forehead--'That infernal girl hates me! She has done me--I cannot tell you how much mischief. She persecutes me. Now she offers to buy me out of my share of thirty-five thousand pounds--a third share--nay--a half, because my great-aunt left no children--for a thousand pounds down!' 'I did not say so.' 'You told me that the windfall would amount to a thousand pounds.' 'That was in joke, my boy. You are perfectly wrong about Armorel hating you. How can she hate you? You are so far wrong in this instance that she has instructed me to give you the whole of this fortune--actually to make you a free gift of the whole property--the whole, mind--thirty-five thousand pounds!'