“Softly, softly,” said Mr. Fazakerly; “don’t let us go too fast. I acknowledge these are ugly letters to find; they make a very strong case against the old Squire. He was a man who would stick at nothing to get his own will. I would not say so before your sister, Mr. Edgar, but still it was true. I have known cases in which he did not stick at anything. And there can be no doubt that it affords an instant explanation of his conduct to you. But the law distrusts too clear an explanation of motives--the law likes facts, Mr. Edgar, and not motives. We must go very gently in this difficult path. I will allow that I think this is the late Mr. Arden’s handwriting--for the sake of argument I will allow that; but these letters, you will perceive, all make a proposition. There is nothing in them to prove that the proposition was accepted--not a word--a fact which of itself complicates the matter immensely. We have Mr. Arden’s word for it, without any confirmation--nothing more.” “I think you mistake,” said Edgar; “there are these other letters which consider and accept the proposal. They are, I think, remarkable letters. The person who wrote them could no doubt be identified. I think they are quite conclusive that the proposal was accepted. Look at this, and this, and this----” “All very well--all very well,” said the lawyer. “Letters signed ‘J. M.;’ but who is ‘J. M.’? I conclude a woman. I don’t make out what kind of a person at all. There are errors of spelling here and there, which do not look like a lady; and there is something about the style which is not like an uneducated person. I decline to receive as evidence the anonymous letters of ‘J. M.’” Arthur Arden followed the speakers with his eyes, and with breathless attention. He turned from one to another, noting even their gestures, the little motions of arm and hand with which they appealed to each other. He was discouraged by Mr. Fazakerly’s tone; he raised his eyes to Edgar, almost begging him to say something more--to bring forward another argument for his own undoing. It was the strangest position for them both. Edgar had taken upon himself, as it were, the conduct of his adversary’s case; he was the advocate of the man who was to displace and supersede him. He was struggling with the champion of his own rights for those of his rival, and with the strangest simplicity that rival tacitly appealed to him. “I don’t understand these matters of detail----” Edgar began.