Albert handed over the writ and his father put on a pair of spectacles and carefully read it through from beginning to end. Then he flung it on the desk at which the three men were standing. "It's nowt but what they call blackmail!" he growled. "I'll none deny 'at there were an arrangement between my son and Farnish's lass. But it were this here--Farnish were to give five hundred pounds wi' her. Now, Farnish went brok'--he had no five hundred pound, nor five hundred pence! So, of course, t'arrangement fell through. That's where it is." Palethorpe laughed again--and old Grice feared that laugh more than the other. "I'm more surprised than before, Mr. Grice," said Palethorpe. "My client has nothing whatever to do with any arrangement--if there was any--between you and her father. Her affair is with your son Mr. Albert Grice. He asked her to marry him--she consented. He gave her an engagement ring--it was well known all round the neighbourhood that they were to marry. He wrote her letters, in which marriage is mentioned----" Grice turned on his son in a sudden paroxysm of fury. "Ye gre't damned softhead!" he burst out. "Ye don't mean to say 'at you were fool enough to write letters! Letters!" "I wrote some," replied Albert sullenly. "Now and then, when I was away, like. It's t'usual thing when you're engaged to a young woman." "Quite the usual thing--when you're engaged to a young woman," said Palethorpe, with a quiet sneer. "And we have the letters--all of 'em. And the engagement ring, too. Mr. Grice, it's no good blustering. This is as clear a case as ever I heard of, and your son'll have to pay. It's no concern of mine whether you take my advice or not, but if you do take it, you'll come to terms with my client. If this case goes before a judge and jury--and it certainly will, if you don't settle it in the meantime--you won't have a leg to stand on, and Miss Farnish will get heavy damages--heavy!--and you'll have all the costs. And between you and me, Mr. Grice, you'll not come out of the matter with very clean hands yourself. We know quite well, for you're a bit talkative, you know--how you engineered the breaking-off of this engagement and contrived the marriage of your son to his cousin, and we shall put you in the witness-box, and ask you some very unpleasant questions. And you're a churchwarden, eh?" concluded Palethorpe, as he turned to the door. "Come now--you know my client's been abominably treated by you and your son--you'd better do the proper thing, and compensate her handsomely." Grice had become scarlet with anger during the solicitor's last words, and now he picked up the writ and thrust it into his pocket. "I'll say nowt no more to you!" he exclaimed. "I'll see my lawyer in t'morning, and hear what he's gotten to say to such a piece o' impidence!" "That's the first sensible thing I've heard you say," remarked Palethorpe. "See him by all means--and he'll say to you just what I've said. You'll see!"