"I'll leave the talking to you, Isaac," whispered Simpson, who was more reserved than his twin-brother. "Find out all you can."
Isaac was nothing loath—he knew his powers. He plunged straight into the matter as soon as he and Simpson confronted an elderly man, who eyed them with interest.
"Morning, sir," said Isaac. "Our name is Greaves, Isaac and Simpson Greaves, brothers. We're just giving up a farm over Woodbarrow way yonder, and we're on the look-out for another. We heard at Cornchester market that you've a farm to let very cheap—High Elms Farm—so we thought we'd like to have a look at it and see you about it."
The solicitor looked steadily at both brothers, one after the other. Then he cleared his throat with a non-committal sort of cough.
"Yes," he said, "yes. Have you been over the place, Mr. Greaves?"
"We've been over every bit of it this morning," replied Isaac.
"Well?" said the solicitor.
"It's good land—badly neglected," said Isaac.
"Very badly neglected," added Simpson.
"That, of course, is why you're asking such a low rent for it," suggested Isaac, with a shrewd glance at the man of law.