"Then stand up, man, and hear it. He is a blackguard, and I hate him, and I'd say it to his face if he were here. Now tell me, is he really bad?" "Only a temporary attack. He is suffering, I'm afraid, from overstudy. But now to business." "Stop a minute, man: let me think. Hang the business! How much is it? I'll write you a cheque. I can now, Thompson, old chap. Times are altered, eh?" "Ah, and for the better, Sir Thomas." "Here, hold your tongue. Don't talk. Let me see: not married; neither chick nor child; no brother. Why, Thompson, if North--curse him!--died, you'd have the Manor House!" "Should I!" said Cousin Thompson, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully. "Well, yes, I suppose I am next of kin. But Horace North will outlive me." "Is he quite off his head?" "Hush! don't talk about it, my dear sir. Poor fellow, he is ill; but not so very bad. I shouldn't like it to get about amongst his patients. People chatter and exaggerate to such an extent." Tom Candlish smoked furiously for a few moments, and then cast away the end of his cigar, and lit another, biting the end, and frowning at his visitor. "Now about business," said Thompson, at last. "Curse business!" cried the squire, as he kept on watching the lawyer keenly. "Look here, Thompson, how was it that you two being cousins, he has so much money, and you're as poor as Job?" "Way of the world, my dear sir--way of the world." Tom Candlish sat back, chewing the end of his cigar and smoking hard. "Look here, you Thompson! Now out with it; you don't like Dr North?" "Like him? I hate all doctors; just as you do." "That's shuffling out of it," said Candlish scornfully; "but you needn't be afraid of me. I'm open enough. I'm not above speaking out and telling you I hate him. I wish you'd make a set on his pocket, and bleed him as you are so precious fond of bleeding me." "Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" said Cousin Thompson laughingly; and then the two men sat smoking and gazing one at the other in silence till their cigars were finished. "Take another," said the squire, handing the case lying upon the table. Thompson took another, and Tom Candlish lit his third, to lie back in his chair, smoking very placidly, and staring from time to time at Thompson, who watched him in turn in a very matter-of-fact, amused way. They rarely spoke, and when they did it was upon indifferent themes; but by degrees a mutual understanding seemed to be growing up between them, dealing in some occult way with Horace North's health and his position in Duke's Hampton. The Manor House estate, too, seemed to have something to do with their silent communings. This lasted till the lawyer's second and the squire's third cigar were finished, and a certain amount of liquid refreshment had been consumed as well. Then Cousin Thompson suddenly threw away the stump of tobacco-leaf he had left. "Now suppose we finish our bit of business?"