“About what?” asked Barthorpe. “I came to speak to my cousin—in private.”
“There is a certain something, sir,” retorted Mr. Halfpenny, with warmth, “about which we must speak in public—such a public, at any rate, as is represented here and now. You know what it is—your uncle’s will!”
“What about my uncle’s will—or alleged will?” asked Barthorpe with a sneer.
Mr. Halfpenny appeared to be about to make a very angry retort, but he suddenly checked himself and looked at Peggie.
“You hear, my dear?” he said. “He says—alleged will!”
Peggie turned to Barthorpe with an appealing glance.
“Barthorpe!” she exclaimed. “Is that fair—is it generous? Is it just—to our uncle’s memory? You know that is his will—what doubt can there be about it?”
Barthorpe made no answer. He still stood with one hand on the door, looking at Mr. Halfpenny. And suddenly he spoke.
“What do you wish to ask me?” he said.
“I wish to ask you a plain question,” replied Mr. Halfpenny. “Do you accept this will, and are you going to act on your cousin’s behalf? I want your plain answer.”