"I am a man, as well as a lawyer," retorted Barras, coldly.
"Still, Uncle Henry, whom every one liked--"
"Popularity implies weakness, to my mind, Miss Baird. Strength has its enemies, I have always found."
"What do you think, Ferdy?" asked Clarice, staggered by the lawyer's air of conviction.
"About Uncle Henry? Oh, it's all rot. He was one of the best, even though we didn't get on over well."
"There, Mr. Barras," said Clarice, with an air of triumph.
He took no notice of her, but produced from his bag a sheaf of important-looking documents. "I had better read the will," said Barras, coldly.
"One moment," broke in Jerce, as Barras unfolded a sheet of parchment with a judicial air. "We must tell you about the death, and--"
"I have heard everything," interrupted the lawyer, mounting his golden pince-nez. "I have read all that was to be read in the papers."
"And you think?--"