Beattie was leaning with his arms on the table, as he slowly pressed the end of his cigarette against the ash-tray. On hearing his companion’s last words, he slowly shook his head without looking up. ‘When I saw him this afternoon, Mr. Lindsay was in perfect possession of his faculties,’ he said calmly. (The other darted at him a look of contempt.) ‘And the doctor who attends him, as well as his relations and servants, would no doubt be of the same opinion,’ he added firmly. Semple dropped his eyes on the table, and was silent. ‘Is there no one who has influence with him, no one who might induce him to alter his mind?’ added the young lawyer, after a pause. ‘Nobody in the world,’ said Semple bitterly. ‘My uncle is the very incarnation of self-conceit and obstinacy. Everybody will talk of this “munificent bequest,” and that’s all he cares for. I will try, of course, what I can do; but there’s not the slightest chance----’ ‘Take care that you don’t let him see that you know his intentions before he speaks of them himself,’ said Beattie anxiously. ‘You needn’t be afraid,’ said the other. There was silence in the room for some minutes, while Semple sat brooding over the prospect before him, his eyes on the floor. Suddenly he started to his feet, and, striking the table with his fist, cried, with an oath: ‘I won’t stand it! I will not! I’m not going to be fooled out of all this money after toiling for it so long. Beattie, you must help me to get it. There are ways and means. You lawyers know them. I’ll take any reasonable risk myself, and you shall have half-profits--that is, two hundred thousand out of the five. That’s fair, isn’t it?’ Beattie smiled contemptuously. ‘May I ask you what you were thinking of?’ he inquired, with mock politeness. ‘I’m thinking of getting the money,’ said Semple roughly. ‘And if you’re too much of a coward to help me, I’ll find someone who will! Think, man. Is there no way? Can’t we find someone who’--here he dropped his voice to a whisper--‘who could imitate the signature, you know.’ ‘And find ourselves in a convict prison for the rest of our lives? No, thank you.’ ‘But it’s awful to think of such a sum slipping away from one like that. It’s a sin not to make an effort----’ Here Mr. Semple stopped; his ideas were getting rather mixed. ‘You’ll think it over,’ said he, after a long pause. ‘I’ll think it over,’ repeated the other. ‘Then you think there’s a chance of----’ ‘A chance? Well, hardly that. And yet, as you say, it would be a pity to miss an opportunity of--two hundred thousand pounds, I think you said?’ ‘If I take the risk, one hundred thousand, Beattie. It’s a large sum.’