After a little more hesitation, Mr. Price proceeded: “There will perhaps be some little trouble and delay in arranging all the affairs; and I am afraid, Mr. Markham, that your legacy will be paid last.” “Very likely,” replied Markham, “that is as it should be; indeed I had no reason to expect any legacy at all.” “I think,” continued Mr. Price, “that you will find your legacy rather larger than you are now aware of; and notwithstanding all that was said by Mr. Denver, I should have no objection to change legacies with you.” “Indeed, Mr. Price! Why surely you do not mean to say that my legacy is worth as much as twenty thousand pounds?” Mr. Price looked very knowing and important, and said, “Now, Mr. Markham, I will deal candidly with you; I know that your share will amount to more than twenty thousand. If therefore you wish to get rid of all trouble, and quietly receive a handsome commutation, I can venture to say that I will give you thirty thousand pounds for your legacy, and I will take all the trouble of the business on my own hands.” How far Markham was truly honest and conscientiously veracious in professing to be surprised at this development, we will leave casuists to determine. In order, however, to ascertain, as readily and distinctly as he could, the truth of the story told by Sir Andrew, he professed great astonishment, but declined the proffered commutation, saying with a smile, “No, no, Mr. Price, I shall not let you off so easily as that; I must have a more tempting offer. You have said that you cannot exactly tell how much our late friend’s property amounts to: now, unless you had reason to suppose you should make a very good bargain indeed, you would not proffer so large a sum on a contingency. Come now, confess, do you not think that my legacy is really worth a great deal more than thirty thousand pounds? You may not know the precise amount of Mr. Martindale’s property, but you cannot have had the management of it so many years without being able to form a tolerably correct judgment of it. You must know the value of his mortgages, and the amount of his funded property.” Then looking more seriously, Markham went on: “Now tell me honestly, Mr. Price, is not the legacy in question really worth as much as one hundred thousand pounds? I know it is,” continued the barrister, conscious from the solicitor’s manner that Sir Andrew Featherstone’s story was not without foundation. It then became necessary for Mr. Price to change his tone, and to look serious. “I will tell you honestly,” said he, “that your legacy is worth nearer two than one hundred thousand pounds.” “But how is it that Mr. Martindale should have assigned to you the sum of twenty thousand pounds, as being more beneficial to you than this enormous residue? Was our friend so ignorant of the extent of his property as to make so great a mistake as this?”