“There’s a want of vivacity about you, Morris,” he observed. “You may be deep; but I’ll be hanged if you’re vivacious!”
“What makes you think me deep?” asked Morris with an air of pleased simplicity.
“Because you won’t compromise,” said the lawyer. “You’re deep dog, Morris, very deep dog, not t’ compromise—remarkable deep dog. And a very good glass of wine; it’s the only respectable feature in the Finsbury family, this wine; rarer thing than a title—much rarer. Now a man with glass wine like this in cellar, I wonder why won’t compromise?”
“Well, you wouldn’t compromise before, you know,” said the smiling Morris. “Turn about is fair play.”
“I wonder why I wouldn’ compromise? I wonder why you wouldn’?” inquired Michael. “I wonder why we each think the other wouldn’? ’S quite a remarrable—remarkable problem,” he added, triumphing over oral obstacles, not without obvious pride. “Wonder what we each think—don’t you?”
“What do you suppose to have been my reason?” asked Morris adroitly.
Michael looked at him and winked. “That’s cool,” said he. “Next thing, you’ll ask me to help you out of the muddle. I know I’m emissary of Providence, but not that kind! You get out of it yourself, like Æsop and the other fellow. Must be dreadful muddle for young orphan o’ forty; leather business and all!”
“I am sure I don’t know what you mean,” said Morris.
“Not sure I know myself,” said Michael. “This is exc’lent vintage, sir—exc’lent vintage. Nothing against the tipple. Only thing: here’s a valuable uncle disappeared. Now, what I want to know: where’s valuable uncle?”
“I have told you: he is at Browndean,” answered Morris, furtively wiping his brow, for these repeated hints began to tell upon him cruelly.