"Yes, sir," answered that worthy, speaking through his shut lips, "Mr Trump and Mr Sequence both in. Yer name Markworth, b'lieve?"--and Markworth nodded--"Waiting to see you. Both in there!" pointing to the door of the inner office, where, on entering, our friend found the lawyers arranged in state, one on each side of a table, covered with papers and a wrinkled parchment folio, endorsed on the outside, "Last will and testament of Roger Hartshorne, deceased." Markworth took in all the preparations at a glance, the lawyers with their pleasant about-to-perform-an-operation expression of face, the paper-covered table, the will, the dentist-like looking easy chair, placed handily for him between the solicitors, exposing him to their fire on either flank, and all. "Aha! Good morning, Mr Markworth. Fine day," said Mr Trump; and "Aha! Good morning, Mr Markworth. Fine day," echoed Mr Sequence after him, as customary, in his feeble treble. "Good morning," he answered, "You sent for me, eh?" "We sent for you, Mr Markworth, because," said Mr Trump, smiling and rubbing his hands gleefully, as he always did before plunging into his subject. "We sent for you, Mr Markworth, because," said the echo, without any smile, however, or rubbing of hands. "Because what, sir?" exclaimed Markworth, turning round abruptly on poor little Sequence, who of course had not a word to say for himself until his principal gave him the cue. Mr Trump came gallantly to the rescue. "We sent for you, Mr Markworth, because we wished to have some conversation on the subject of the case put down for the present term of Markworth _versus_ Hartshorne. We represent the defendant, as you know." "Certainly, Mr Trump; but don't you think you had better consult my solicitor, as the matter is entirely out of my hands?" "Hum! I think you'll agree with us after hearing what we have to say, that the communication which we have to make had better be addressed to you in the first instance." "You wish to compromise the thing, I suppose?" "Pray don't be so hasty, my _dear_ sir," responded Trump, still smiling affably. And "My _dear_ sir!" chimed in Sequence, as usual. "We don't suppose anything, and we don't pledge or commit ourselves to anything. Don't be so hasty, my _dear_ sir; it's very unprofessional, _very_ unprofessional." And "Very unprofessional," squeaked Sequence. "I wish you would come to the point at once!" said Markworth, angrily. Mr Trump at once dropped his professional smile. Glancing his eyes carelessly over a paper before him, and taking up the will, he spoke out in a straight, business-like manner, while Mr Sequence sat himself bolt upright in his chair, and tried to look very stern and pre-occupied indeed.