"Oh, do they?" said Charles Bevan.
"The fact is," continued the elder gentleman slapping his knee with the flat of the paper knife as he spoke, "the fact is, Mr George Lambert is in very great financial straits, and if the truth were known, I verily believe the truth would be that he is quite insolvent."
Charles made no reply.
"But he will go on fighting the case, unless we can come to terms, even though he has to borrow money for the purpose, for he is a very litigious man this Mr George Lambert, a very litigious man!"
"Well, let him fight," cried Charles; "I ask nothing better."
"Still," said the old lawyer, "I thought it better to lay before you the suggestion that has come from the other side, and which is simply this——" He paused, drew a tortoiseshell snuff-box from his pocket, and took a furious pinch of snuff. "Which is simply this, that each party pay their own costs, and that the fishing rights be shared equally. We beat them in the Queen's Bench, but when the matter comes before the Court of Appeal, who knows but——"
"Pay what?" cried Charles Bevan. "Pay my own costs after having fought so long, and nearly beaten this pirate, this poacher! Show me the letter containing this proposal, this infamous suggestion."
"Dear me, dear me, my dear sir, pray do not take the matter so crookedly," cried the man of law lowering his spectacles and beginning to mend a quill pen in an irritable manner. "There is nothing infamous in this proposal, and indeed it reached me not through the mediumship of a letter, but of a young lady. Mr George Lambert's daughter called upon me in person, a most—er—charming young lady. She gave me to understand from her conversation—her most artless conversation—that her unfortunate father is on the brink, the verge, I may say the verge of ruin. But he himself does not see it, pig-headed man that he is. In fact she, the young lady herself, does not seem to see it. Dear me, dear me, their condition makes me shudder."
"When did she call?" asked Bevan.
"Two days ago," blurted out the old lawyer splitting the quill and nearly cutting his finger with the penknife.