‘No,’ said the old man; ‘I don’t care for lawyers as trustees; they never seem to run straight. Let me see—put down William Brown, of the Stock Exchange, and James Harberton, of Leadenhall Street, merchant. Give them each a hundred pounds for their services. They won’t refuse to act when they find their names in the will; if they were to be asked beforehand, they’d say no; so don’t you tell either of them till I’m gone. And talking of that—don’t let my niece or any one else hear a word about this. I shall keep the will myself this time, and you will be the only person to know where it is to be found. Otherwise, they’ll all be scrabbling after it as soon as the breath is out of me—perhaps before; and it may be a whim, but I don’t like the notion. Lucy’s a good sort; but then she is only a woman, and curious, like the rest of ’em. I shall tell her to send for you when the right time comes; and then you can lay your hand upon the will and do what’s needful—which will bring a little more grist to your mill, to console you. Get the thing ready by to-morrow at this time, and bring it here with two witnesses, as before. Bring the old will as well; I wish to destroy it myself.’ ‘That is hardly necessary,’ said the solicitor, catching at he knew not what straw of hope; ‘it will be effectually revoked by the later document.’ ‘Don’t you argue with me; do as I tell you. I say I shall destroy it with my own hands; then there can’t be any question about it.—Don’t fail to come to-morrow; I want to get it over. I don’t think there’s much time to waste. If you were to take me anywhere near a churchyard and lay me down, I doubt I shouldn’t be in a hurry to get up again.’ Mr Blackford attempted a politely deprecatory murmur, but was testily interrupted. ‘Oh, I daresay you won’t be sorry to get your money. I’m tired talking. Mind you do just as I have told you.—Good-day.’