‘And I request these trustees to appoint my friend the Rev. Robert Mackenzie, D.D., Secretary to the Trust, at such reasonable salary as they may think fit. And, by the way, I leave the said Rev. Robert Mackenzie one thousand pounds, for himself. The rest of my property--what do you call it?’ ‘The residue.’ ‘Ay. The residue I leave to my nephews, James Semple and Alexander Lindsay, equally between them. I calculate that will give them some ten thousand apiece.’ ‘By the way, have you personal property to the extent of half a million?’ inquired the clerk. ‘Yes.’ ‘I only asked, because otherwise there might be a difficulty about the Statutes of Mortmain. But I can make the legacy to the Free Church come out of the personalty. Have you any further instructions?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then I will read over what I have written, and if it is in accordance with your wishes, you will please initial it.’ This was done, and Beattie took his leave, promising that the draft would be ready in a day or two. As he reached the hall, he met James Semple, who was coming out of the library. ‘Come in here a moment, Beattie,’ said Semple, drawing him into the room, which was empty. ‘What have you been about with my uncle?’ ‘I can’t speak of a client’s business, you know,’ answered Beattie with a smile. ‘Oh, stuff! Don’t come the virtuous to such an extent as that. Weren’t you taking down his instructions for his will?’ Beattie smiled again. ‘Really, my dear fellow, consider my position,’ he began. ‘I am certain you were. Now, look here. Am I to have the business at Drumleck, or am I not?’ But the other was dumb. ‘We can’t talk here,’ said Semple nervously. ‘It’s past five; there’s no necessity for you to go back to the office, is there?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then, will you come and dine with me at the Cosmopolitan, say at half-past six? I can’t very well ask you to dine here, you know.’ Beattie accepted the invitation. He knew very well that Semple’s object in giving it was to extract information from him about the will; and Semple told himself that if Beattie had not meant to yield, he would not have promised to dine with him. But Beattie had by no means made up his mind on the point. One thing, however, he hardly needed to decide--he did not intend to sell his information for nothing. Semple secured a private room at the Cosmopolitan, and ordered a good dinner and the best wine procurable. There was but little conversation between the two young men during dinner; but as soon as the meal was concluded, Semple’s impatience made him open the subject which was uppermost in their minds. ‘Look here, Beattie,’ he began; ‘I’ve been a good friend to you, haven’t I?’ ‘Yes, you have, Semple.’ ‘I lent you six hundred pounds, you know--about that matter--on very bad security.’ ‘You did.’ ‘Well, fill your glass, old man.’ Beattie obeyed; but the other noticed that he merely put the glass to his lips.