“Legal business,” said Sam sneeringly.
“Yes, sir, legal business,” cried James Brandon. “You’re worse than your cousin.”
“Ever so much,” retorted Sam. “Well, dad, have you done?”
“Yes, sir, I have done—done with you too. You might have saved me thousands, instead of—”
“How do you know I haven’t?” said Sam sourly.
His father’s mouth opened, and a curious change came over his countenance.
“Why, Sam, my boy!” he panted. “You don’t mean to say—”
“That the idiot has been of some use to you? Yes, I do. There, when you’ve done rowing me let’s get the business over, for I’m sick of it. I want to go to bed.”
“Then—then—you’ve—you’ve—” stammered James Brandon.
“Succeeded?—of course I have,” said Sam coolly, as he lay back in a chair, heavy-eyed, nervous, and utterly exhausted by his night’s work. “If I wasn’t so tired I should have something more to say.”