Crowther bent down, and spoke some words in a low, murmuring voice. “Well, and for that what am I to do?” cried Curtis, suddenly. “My share of the compact is heavy enough, I'll be sworn. What is it?” “I think I can show you that it is not much of a sacrifice, sir. I know you hate long explanations, and I 'll make mine very brief. Mr. Fagan has very heavy charges against an estate which is not unlikely to be the subject of a disputed ownership. It may be a long suit, with all the delays and difficulties of Chancery; and in looking over the various persons who may prefer claims here and there, we find your name amongst the rest, for it is a long list, sir. There may be forty or forty-five in all! The principal one, however, is a wealthy baronet who has ample means to prosecute his claim, and with fair hopes of succeeding. My notion, however, was that if Mr. Fagan could arrange with the several persons in the cause to waive their demands for a certain consideration, that it would not be difficult then to arrange some compromise with the baronet himself,--he surrendering the property to Fagan for a certain amount, on taking with it all its liabilities. You understand?” “And who's the owner?” asked Curtis, shortly. “He is dead, sir.” “Who was he when alive?” “An old friend, or rather the son of an old friend of yours, Mr. Curtis!” “Ah, Brinsley Morgan! I guess him at once; but you are wrong, quite wrong there, my good fellow. I have n't the shadow of a lien on his estate. We talked it over together one day, and Hackett, the Attorney-General, who was in the house, said that my claim was n't worth five shillings. But I 'll tell you where I have a claim,--at least Hackett said so, I have a very strong claim--No, no; I was forgetting again,--my memory is quite gone. It is so hard when one grows old to bear the last ten or fifteen years in mind. I can remember my boyhood and my school-days like yesterday. It is late events that confuse me! You 'll scarce believe me when I tell you I often find myself going to dine with some old friend, and only discover when I reach his door that he is dead and gone this many a day! There was something in my mind to tell you, and it has escaped me already. Oh! I have it. There are some curious old family papers in that musty-looking portmanteau. I should like to find out some clever fellow that would look them over without rushing me into a lawsuit, mind ye, for I have no heart for that now! My brother Harry's boy is dead. India finished him, poor fellow! That's the key of it,--see if it will open the lock.” “If you like I 'll take them back with me, sir, and examine them myself at home.” “Do so, Crowther. Only understand me well, no bills of costs, my worthy friend; no searches after this, or true copies of that; I 'll have none of them. As Dick Parsons said, I 'd rather spend my estate at the 'Fives' than the 'Four' Courts.”