"Oh! business, did you say?" inquired the other, rubbing his bony nose and looking at the empty grate.
"Yes, rather important to you—more than to myself, though it concerns me too. You have a new client, I believe; the nephew of our old partner Mr. Lindstrand."
"Dr. Claudius?" asked the lawyer, looking up.
"He calls himself so, at any rate," said Barker.
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Screw quickly, shifting his position.
"Do you think you have taken all the necessary steps towards ascertaining that he is the heir—the right man—the real Dr. Claudius?"
"Great heavens!" exclaimed the lawyer, surprised and terribly frightened by Barker's insinuation, "you don't mean to say there is any doubt about it, do you?"
"I am inclined to think there is doubt—yes, decidedly. It is a very serious matter, and I thought it best to speak to you about it before talking to my father. You see, though the loss might fall on us, indirectly, the moral responsibility is yours, since you are the lawyers in the case."
"But your father is one of the executors, Mr. Barker," said Mr. Screw, who felt obliged to say something, and wanted to gain time.
"My father—yes," and Barker smiled disagreeably. "Yes, he is one of the executors. But you yourself are the other, Mr. Screw. And as far as any intelligence in the matter is concerned, you might be alone." Barker was willing to flatter the lawyer at the expense of his fond parent. Screw would be of more use to him than many fathers in this matter. Mr. Screw relapsed into silence, and sat for some minutes, hooking one leg behind the other, and thrusting as much of his hands into his pockets as those receptacles would contain. After a time he changed his position, heaved a species of sigh that sounded like the sudden collapse of a set of organ-bellows, and ran his fingers through his thick hair.