“I thought of those accumulations. I went down to see the old man. He’s quite well and hearty--wouldn’t speak to me. Pretends to be deaf and dumb. But the housekeeper says he understands everything. So he knows of my existence. The woman gave me the address of his solicitors, and I’ve been to see them. I wanted an advance, you know, just a little advance on the accumulations.” “Ah!” “But they won’t acknowledge that they have any power. ‘My dear Sir,’ I said, ‘I don’t ask whether you have any power or not--I don’t care whether you advance me a thousand on my reversionary interest, or whether you lend it yourself.’ No, sir, the fellow wouldn’t budge. Said I must prove the possession of reversionary interest: said he wasn’t a money-lender: said I had better go to a bank and show security. Here I am one of the heirs to a noble fortune. I don’t know how much, but it must be something enormous. Why, his estate is worth £6,000 a year, and I know that there was money besides which he had from his mother. Enormous! Enormous! And here I am wanting a poor thousand.” “It seems hard, doesn’t it? But, then, are you sure that you are one of the heirs?” “The old man is off his head. Everything will be divided. He can’t live long.” “No. But he may live five or six years more.” “Well, Christopher, the long and the short of it is that you will have to find that money. You may charge interest: you may take my bond: you will do what you like: but I must have that money.” “The long and the short of it, Fred, is this: I am not going to give, or to lend, or to advance, any money to you at all. Put that in your pipe.” “Oh!” Fred helped himself to another whisky-and-water. “You won’t, eh? Then, what do you think of my blowing this flourishing concern of yours, eh?” Christopher changed colour. “What do you think, Christopher, of my going to call on Pembridge Crescent, and letting out in the most natural and casual way in the world, that I’ve just come from the rooms in Chancery Lane where you carry on your business?” “Fred, you--you--you are a most infernal scoundrel!” “What business? asks my sister-in-law. What business? asks my niece. What business? asks my nephew. Why, says I, don’t you know? Hasn’t he told you? Quite a flourishing income--almost as flourishing as Barlow Brothers. It’s in the Fraudulent Speech Supply Line. That’s a pretty sort of shell to drop in the middle of your family circle, isn’t it?” “Fred, you were always the most cold-blooded villain that ever walked.” “That’s what I shall do, my dear brother. More than that, I shall go and see Leonard. That aristocratic young gentleman, who thinks so much about his family, will be greatly pleased, will he not?”