“I don't deserve any praise; we were poor together at the last, and as long as you ain't got anything you can afford to be generous.” He took from his pocket a letter and handed it to Benson. The envelope was unsealed and there was no superscription. Benson drew forth the letter it contained and read it. Gibbs watched him narrowly the while. But the lawyer's face was expressionless, and told nothing of what was passing in his mind. Having read the letter, Benson returned it to its envelope, then he caught Gibbs's eye. It held a question. “You know what Landray has written here?” he said. “Yes, Steve had me read it and the other letter he mentions, which I gave Mrs. Landray.” “What was in the letter you gave her?” asked Benson. “He wanted her to have the boy, if you would do nothing for him. You see he was sure of her, Jake.” “Yes, he could be sure of her; one can always be sure of her,” said Benson enigmatically. Gibbs shot him a quick glance. “I reckon so,” he said quietly. “But not of me,” and Benson laughed a little bitterly. “Well, I gathered, not so much from what he said as from what he didn't say, that you and he weren't friends;” and with a stubby forefinger Gibbs made a pattern on the polished table with some whisky and water he had inadvertently spilled from his glass. “I find it's a good thing to let death square all grudges,” he ventured. “I think at heart he counted on you, Jake, because of Marian.” “I don't consider that any one has any claim of that sort on me,” said Benson sharply. “Few men stand more alone than I do; and when Marian died it was about the last of the connection—except your wife, Gibbs.” “And the boy,” interjected Gibbs hastily. “You're forgetting him, Jake.” “And the boy,” repeated Benson. “But his is a rather remote claim; and I all but ruined myself on account of Marian's father, I suppose Landray told you that.” Gibbs nodded slightly. The lawyer went on. “Julia is nearer, but you don't seem to be looking to me because of that, Gibbs.” The general's red face grew very red indeed at this. “I'm not asking anything for myself, Jake Benson, or for my Julia. I've stood on my own feet too long to want to go poking them into any one's else shoes, when I do you can tramp on my toes.” “Oh, come, Gibbs!” “Well, don't take up with the idea that I'm here to ask favours for myself, for I ain't! I've fetched you a relative,” said Gibbs. The lawyer regarded him curiously. Gibbs disinterestedness was something he found exceedingly hard to credit. “I don't know what I shall do about the boy,” he said at length. “But he will not suffer in the present; Mrs. Landray will care for him. He could not be in better hands.” “It was the future Steve was thinking about when he wrote to you, Jake; and it will be pretty hard on Mrs. Landray if you leave the child with her until she becomes attached to him, and then take him away.”