"Look here, my girl," said Mr. Forde, "I will give the note to you, and trust to chance. If Mrs. Mortomley has not given her address to you, which I believe she has, she will within twenty-four hours. Give me pen, ink, and paper." And though letter-writing was against all Mr. Forde's principles, he thereupon sat down and wrote a note to Mrs. Mortomley, stating with what regret he had heard of her consulting a solicitor, and asking for an interview which he had no doubt would prove of ultimate advantage to all concerned, "including Mr. Mortomley himself." When he had finished, he laid the envelope and a florin on the table and summoned Esther. "That is the letter," he remarked. She took the letter and pushed aside the florin. "My mistress left me enough money, thank you, sir," she said; "and I would rather not take any more from any one." Mr. Kleinwort shrugged his shoulders as she retreated, and his friend pocketed the florin. "Asherill had reason," remarked the German. "What reason, and for what?" asked Mr. Forde. "He would do nothing with those people," was the reply; "and, my faith, before you have finished, I think it may come to pass you shall wish you had let them choose their own lawyer, their own trustee, and liquidated their own estate for their own selves." "But you yourself advised--" began Mr. Forde. "Advised on your story which you swore was true. You said Mortomley was shamming sick; that the nephew was a rogue and fool combined; that the little woman had her own fortune secure; that besides, they had made one great _coup_, and put away money beyond count. Ah! bah! you great, stupid head--these two, man and wife, have been as senselessly honest as foolish, as even I, looking around, using my eyes, using my ears, can see, and you had better have treated them as such. Now I have said my say, now do as you like for the future." "You are a clever fellow, Kleinwort, but you do not understand England or English people." "That may be well," agreed Mr. Kleinwort, with a face like a judge, all the time he was laughing to himself at the innocence of his companion. As for Mr. Forde, what he liked to do in the future was this. When Mrs. Mortomley received his letter she sent it to Mr. Leigh, requesting him to attend to it; and although the lawyer considered it a somewhat curious and involved epistle, he repaired forthwith to St. Vedast Wharf. Mr. Forde was within and visible. "I have called," said Mr. Leigh, after the first ordinary courtesies had been exchanged, "to speak about a letter you sent to Mrs. Mortomley a few days ago." Mr. Forde rose and put his hands in his pockets. "You will not speak to me about it, my good sir; depend upon that," he observed. "I think you must have misunderstood me," ventured Mr. Leigh in amazement.