"Pay _what_?" cried Charles Bevan. "Pay my own costs after having fought so long, and nearly beaten this pirate, this poacher! Show me the letter containing this proposal, this infamous suggestion." "Dear me, dear me, my dear sir, pray do not take the matter so crookedly," cried the man of law lowering his spectacles and beginning to mend a quill pen in an irritable manner. "There is nothing infamous in this proposal, and indeed it reached me not through the mediumship of a letter, but of a young lady. Mr George Lambert's daughter called upon me in person, a most--er--charming young lady. She gave me to understand from her conversation--her most artless conversation--that her unfortunate father is on the brink, the verge, I may say the verge of ruin. But he himself does not see it, pig-headed man that he is. In fact she, the young lady herself, does not seem to see it. Dear me, dear me, their condition makes me shudder." "When did she call?" asked Bevan. "Two days ago," blurted out the old lawyer splitting the quill and nearly cutting his finger with the penknife. "Why was I not informed sooner of this disgraceful proposition," demanded Bevan. "I declare I have been so busy----" said the other. "Well, tell George Lambert, I will fight as long as I have teeth to fight with, and if I lose the action I'll break him anyhow," foamed Charles who was now in the old-fashioned port-wine temper, which was an heirloom in the Bevan family. "I'll buy up his mortgages and foreclose, tell his wretched daughter----" "Mr Bevan," suddenly interposed the lawyer, "Miss Fanny Lambert is a most charming lady for whom I have a deep respect--I may say a very deep respect--the suggestion came from her informally. I doubt indeed if Mr George Lambert would listen to any proposals for an amicable settlement, he declares you have treated him, to use his expression--er--not as one gentleman should treat another." Charles turned livid. "Where does this Lambert live now?" "At present he resides I believe, at his town house 'The Laurels,' Highgate----. Why! Mr Bevan----" Charles had risen. "He said I was not a gentleman, did he? and you listened to him, I suppose, and agreed with him, and you--no matter, I'll be my own solicitor, I'll go and see him, and tell him he ought to be ashamed of tampering with my business people through the medium of his daughter. Yes, we'll see--'The Laurels' Highgate." "Mr Bevan, Mr Bevan!" cried old James Hancock in despair. But Mr Bevan was gone, strutting out like an enraged turkey-cock through the outer office. "I am afraid I have but made matters worse, I am afraid I have but made matters worse," moaned the peace-loving Mr Hancock, rubbing his shrivelled hands together in an agony of discomfiture, whilst Charles Bevan hailed a cab outside, determined to have it out man to man with this cousin who had dared to say that a Bevan had behaved in a dishonourable manner. CHAPTER VIII AT "THE LAURELS"