“I am just coming to the point, my dear sir, just coming to that; but, you see, we must speak of things in a professional way.”
“Certainly, in a professional way,” said Mr Sequence, nodding his head sagaciously, as if in confirmation of Mr Trump’s remark; while Markworth twirled his hat impatiently between his fingers, and wondered what “those two rogues were after now!”
“By the terms of the will of the late Roger Hartshorne, deceased,” resumed Mr Trump, unctiously, “without exactly phrasing it in legal language, Mr Markworth, you will see that, putting the question of Susan Hartshorne’s sanity or insanity, as I said before, entirely out of the argument—and that remains to be proved”—he said, significantly, “if she married you without her mother’s consent before she was twenty-one years of age, she forfeited all right and claim to the bequest mentioned in her father’s will.”
“Quite right, and I thought we settled all that before,” responded Markworth, knowingly. He continued, as if in response to a question from the lawyer. “Quite right, Mr Trump. But you see, I took very good care that the happy day on which I called her mine should not be until after the date on which she came of age;” and Markworth laughed very heartily. Strange to say, neither Mr Trump nor his partner joined in the laugh this time; both of them looked more stolid and parchmenty than ever. The senior of the firm went on straight to the point.
“That is just the question we have to decide, Mr Markworth.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I say,” answered Mr Trump, calmly. “That’s the point,” said Mr Sequence; and both looked at their subject composedly—just like dentists!
“What the devil do you mean? staring at me like that,” said Markworth, angrily, and turning pale with apprehension. “What pettifoggery are you raking up now? I’m not to be frightened easily.”
“We are not pettifoggers, Mr Markworth, and have no wish to intimidate you or any other person; but the date of your marriage, or quasi-marriage”—Mr Trump corrected himself—“with the girl has got a good deal to do with us, and you too.”
“Go on, man, go on, and say all you’ve got to say without any more unnecessary words. By Heavens! I can’t bear all this talking.”