Beachcombe sprang to his feet. "I have stood this insolence long enough!" he exclaimed. "You—an outlaw, a convicted robber, dare to spurn my word!—refuse to accept _my_ written promise! Pray, what will satisfy you?" "Oh! if you wish to offer me satisfaction, ’tis quickly settled," cried Robin. "To cross swords with your lordship will give me the utmost pleasure, and let him who draws the first blood dictate the terms of truce." Beachcombe sneered, but he was not a coward, and his fingers almost involuntarily wandered to his sword-hilt. "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried the lawyer. "This is no time or place for fighting; besides, if there is anything in your story, Captain—Freebooter—the curse of Cain would be on the one who shed the other’s blood." "Will the one who hires somebody else to shed the other’s blood, escape the curse of Cain?" sternly inquired Robin. "If we can not settle this business like gentlemen, let us get it over as quickly as possible. It will not be difficult, I dare say, to find some better occasion for a meeting." In a great hurry, Mr. Perry read over a legal document, renouncing on the part of "the person claiming to be Robert Gregory de Cliffe and his descendants for ever," all titles, estates entailed or otherwise, and other belongings appertaining to the Beachcombe family in all its ramifications, in consideration of one thousand pounds over and above all expenses of his transportation to a foreign land, or any place outside of the British Isles, that he might select for his future abode. The above to be paid to him on signing this deed, and to constitute a full satisfaction for every claim, past, present and future. Robin listened with scant patience to the monotonous repetition of legal terms by which every contingency was forestalled and provided for. Then he requested Mr. Double to peruse it, in case there might be snares or hidden meanings in it. Two clerks were called in to witness the bold signature of Robert Gregory de Cliffe, and finally, Mr. Perry counted out one thousand pounds in Bank of England notes, as compensation for Robin’s claim to an inheritance worth twenty thousand a year, two hundred more for his expenses in leaving the country, and certain sums to Mr. Double for his services. Lord Beachcombe showed very little interest in this part of the transaction, but sat biting his nails and fingering his sword-hilt. Mr. Perry drew Mr. Double aside, and made one last attempt to convince him that it would be greatly to the interest of all parties if he could persuade his client to surrender the two documents of whose value he held so exaggerated an estimate. Meantime, Robin strolled up to the window, arranging his beaver with great nonchalance, and throwing the end of the cloak over his shoulder, so as to display the red lining.