“He would be a fool to do that, because my case is anything but a weak one. I tell you this in confidence. But supposing he were to decline, then I should say to him: ‘I am willing to conduct this case on my own account. If I fail, it shall not cost you a penny. If I succeed, you shall pay all expenses, and give me five thousand pounds.’ That would fetch him, I think.” “You have been assuming all along,” said Kester, “that your case is based on fact. I assure you again that it is not—that it is nothing but a devilish lie from beginning to end.” “Really, my dear sir, that has little or nothing to do with the matter. I dare say it is a lie. But it is my place to believe it to be the truth, and to make other people believe the same as I do. Here’s your very good health, sir.” Again Mr. Skeggs took a long pull and a strong pull at his bottle of gin. “Knowing what you know,” said Kester, “and believing what you believe, are you yet willing to sell the document now in your possession?” “Of course I am. What else is all this jaw for?” “And don’t you think you are a pretty sort of scoundrel to make me any such offer? Don’t you think——” “Now look you here, Mr. St. George—if that is your name, which I very much doubt—don’t let you and me begin to fling mud at one another, because that is a game at which I could lick you into fits. I have made you a fair offer. If we can’t come to terms, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t part friendly.” Once again Kester walked on in silence. The snow had been coming down more thickly for some time past, and already the dull gray moor began to look strange and unfamiliar, but neither of the two men gave more than a passing thought to the weather. “If you feel and know your case to be such a strong one,” said Kester, at last, “why do you come to me at all? Why send a white flag into your enemy’s camp? Why not fight him à l’outrance at once?” “Because I’m neither so young nor so pugnacious as I once was,” answered Skeggs. “I go in for peace and quiet nowadays. I don’t want the bother and annoyance of a law-suit. I have no ill-feeling towards you, and if you will only make me a fair offer, I shall be the last man in the world to disturb you in any way. Gemini! how the snow comes down! We are only about half way yet. We shall have some difficulty in picking our road across.” “I myself am as anxious as you can be, Mr. Skeggs, to be saved the trouble and annoyance of a law-suit, however sure I may feel that the result would be in my favour. But you must give me a little time to think this matter over. It is far too important to be decided at a moment’s notice.” “Time? To be sure. You can make up your mind in about a couple of days, I suppose. Shall I call upon you, or will you call upon me?”