‘I have really no temptation to accept,’ said Logan. ‘I am not built that way. So what next? If the old boy could only see her—’
‘I doubt if that would do any good, though, of course, if I were you I should think so. He goes north to-night. You can’t take the lady to Kirkburn. And you can’t write to him.’
‘Of course not,’ said Logan; ‘of course it would be all up if he knew that I know.’
‘There is this to be said—it is not a very pleasant view to take—he can’t live long. He came to see some London specialist—it is his heart, I think—’
‘His heart!
How Fortune aristophanises
And how severe the fun of Fate!’
quoted Logan.
‘The odd thing is,’ said Merton, ‘that I do believe he has a heart. I rather like him. At all events, I think, from what I saw, that a sudden start might set him off at any moment, or an unusual exertion. And he may go off before I tell him that I can do nothing with you—’
‘Oh, hang that,’ said Logan, ‘you make me feel like a beastly assassin!’
‘I only want you to understand how the land lies.’ Merton dropped his voice again, ‘He has made a will leaving you everything.’