"Mr Cheekey will hear all about it, and how will you be able to answer Mr Cheekey?"
"I don't care about Mr Cheekey. Who is to tell Mr Cheekey? Will you tell him?"
"I cannot take your part, you know, if you behave like this."
As he spoke, Mr Apjohn had stopped his walk, and was standing with his back close to the book-shelves, with the back of his head almost touching the set of Jeremy Taylor's works. There were ten volumes of them, and he was standing exactly in front of them. Cousin Henry was just in front of him, doubting whether his enemy's position had not been chosen altogether by accident, but still trembling at the near approach. He was prepared for a spring if it was necessary. Anything should be hazarded now, so that discovery might be avoided. Mr Brodrick was still seated in the chair which he had at first occupied, waiting till that order should be given to him to go for the magistrate's warrant.
Mr Apjohn's eye had caught the author's name on the back of the book, and he remembered at once that he had seen the volume,—a volume with Jeremy Taylor's name on the back of it,—lying on the old man's table. "Jeremy Taylor's Works. Sermons." He remembered the volume. That had been a long time ago,—six months ago; but the old man might probably take a long time over so heavy a book. "You will let me look at some of these," he said, pointing with his thumb over his back.
"You shall not touch a book without a regular order," said Cousin Henry.
Mr Apjohn fixed the man's eye for a moment. He was the smaller man of the two, and much the elder; but he was wiry, well set, and strong. The other was soft, and unused to much bodily exercise. There could be no doubt as to which would have the best of it in a personal struggle. Very quickly he turned round and got his hand on one of the set, but not on the right one. Cousin Henry dashed at him, and in the struggle the book fell to the ground. Then the attorney seized him by the throat, and dragged him forcibly back to the table. "Take them all out one by one, and shake them," he said to the other attorney,—"that set like the one on the floor. I'll hold him while you do it."
Mr Brodrick did as he was told, and, one by one, beginning from the last volume, he shook them all till he came to volume 4. Out of that fell the document.
"Is it the will?" shouted Mr Apjohn, with hardly breath enough to utter the words.
Mr Brodrick, with a lawyer's cautious hands, undid the folds, and examined the document. "It certainly is a will," he said,—"and is signed by my brother-in-law."