‘Come now, Beattie,’ said Semple, ‘I really think you might oblige me in that little matter we were speaking of. You see, I want to have a talk with my uncle about it; but I must first know what his ideas are.’ ‘How could I do such a thing? Suppose Hatchett’s people were to get wind of it, what would be the consequence?’ ‘Tuts, man! they can never know of it!’ ‘I should be ruined.’ ‘There’s not the slightest chance of it.’ ‘I should be constantly in your power.’ ‘That means you want to drive a bargain with me.’ ‘I thought you might sign this, perhaps,’ said Beattie, drawing a paper from his pocket. It was a receipt in full for six hundred pounds. ‘Well, you _are_ cool!’ cried Semple, greatly admiring his friend’s impudence. ‘Will you sign it?’ ‘Of course not. I should be mad to do such a thing. Why, I can ask my uncle at any time what his intentions are.’ ‘Then why come to me?’ asked Beattie slowly, lifting his eyebrows. ‘It would be convenient to know beforehand, certainly; but it’s not worth that,’ said Semple. ‘I think you’ll find it’s worth a good deal,’ said the other, smiling again. This whetted Semple’s curiosity, and roused his anxiety. ‘Come now, let me see the instructions--I know you have the paper about you--and I’ll let you off a hundred.’ ‘And not trouble me for the balance for three years?’ ‘Well, yes; and that’s all I’ll do. I’ve made up my mind.’ Beattie saw that no better terms were to be obtained, so he rang for pen and ink, altered the word ‘six’ into ‘one’ in the receipt with which he had provided himself, and then it was signed. ‘Now,’ said Semple. Without speaking a word, Beattie drew the paper of instructions from his pocket, and laid it on the table. Semple snatched it up hastily; and the other sat watching him, knocking off, now and then, the ash from the end of his cigarette with his little finger. Semple ran hurriedly through the first part of the document; then suddenly he gave a cry, and started up, as white as a sheet. ‘Sit down, man,’ said Beattie, almost alarmed at the expression on his companion’s face. ‘Sit down, and drink this,’ and he poured him out a glass of port. Semple took it with a hand that trembled so as to spill the wine, and drank it off. Then he burst out in a torrent of imprecations. ‘I knew that ---- old minister would make him put down something for his religion, but I never dreamt of such madness as this!’ Beattie said nothing; on the whole he rather enjoyed his friend’s discomfiture. ‘It’s infamous! And I, to have slaved all my life for nothing--nothing, by ----! That half-million is about all he has.’ ‘You are to have half the residue, you see,’ said Beattie; ‘about ten thousand pounds, I believe.’ ‘And what’s that? He might as well have left me ten thousand farthings! I ought to have had a hundred thousand pounds at least. But I won’t submit to it! I will not. I will dispute the will. My uncle is not in a fit state of mind to make a will. Eh, Beattie?’