“And you want ten thousand pounds for it?” suggested Barthorpe.
“Pardon me—I want a good deal more for it, under the present much altered circumstances,” said Burchill quietly. “There is an old saying that circumstances alter cases. It’s true—they do. I would have taken ten thousand pounds from your uncle to hold my tongue—true. But—the case is altered by his death.”
Barthorpe pondered over this definite declaration for a minute or two. Then, lowering his voice, he said:
“Looks uncommonly like—blackmail! And that——”
“Pardon me again,” interrupted Burchill. “No blackmail at all—in my view. I happen to possess information of a certain nature, and——”
Barthorpe interrupted in his turn.
“The thing is,” he said, “the only thing is—how long are you and I going to beat about the bush? Are you going to tell me if you signed that will I told you of?”
“Certainly not before I’ve seen it,” answered Burchill promptly.
“Will you tell me then?”
“That entirely depends.”