"Ah," he presently exclaimed with a sort of sigh, looking with sudden vivacity at his companion—"I have it—I have it—I see a way out of the wood! Well, if you can only get ammunition, it's my advice to you to fight the battle over again—but on quite a different field. We'll strike a blow in a new hemisphere!"
"Indeed, Sir Charles? What, in a court of equity?"
"Oh, pho, no!—You say you have entered a caveat against the grant of Letters of Administration?"
"Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Runnington, a little disappointed; "but, as I explained, there's no chance of establishing a will."
"Never mind that! Throw the will to the dogs. I'll show you a wrinkle worth a hundred wills! Mr. and Miss Aubrey, and Titmouse, are, you know, of course, entitled each to a third of Lady Stratton's estate, but as Aubrey would appear to the court to be in fact insolvent, and to owe Titmouse a much larger sum than Aubrey is entitled to, out of the intestate's estate—the preferable right to administer is certainly that of Titmouse. Never mind that, however. Contest his right to administer at all: stand by your caveat—and when you are called upon to support it, do so on the ground that Mr. Aubrey is NEARER of kin to Lady Stratton than Titmouse—which will make it necessary for the fellow, you know, to set forth his pedigree with the greatest minuteness. You will then have a commission go down to the very spot where all the witnesses are, and those fellows, the proctors, you know, are as keen as beagles"——
"Oh, Sir Charles, Sir Charles! I—I see it all! Oh, admirable"——
"To be sure!" continued Sir Charles, with much animation. "Their case will be as it were laid on the rack, when the process of the ecclesiastical court is applied to it. You have an examiner on the spot—all secret and mysterious—proctors ferreting out all sorts of old registers and musty documents, that we should never think of. 'T is quite in their line—births, deaths, and marriages, and everything connected with them. By Jove! if there's a flaw, you'll discover it in this way!"
"Oh, heavens!" cried Mr. Runnington, with grateful glee, "your hint is worth thousands upon thousands of pounds"——
"If it only produce Ten Thousand a-Year—ah, hah!" interrupted Sir Charles, laughing good-naturedly; and very soon afterwards Mr. Runnington quitted his chambers, charmed and excited by the masterly suggestion which had been made to him, and resolved to go off to his proctor instanter, set about acting upon the hint forthwith, and get a kind of general notion of the process which he thought of commencing. You might, within an hour's time, have seen Mr. Runnington closeted with the proctor always employed by his firm—Mr. Obadiah Pounce—a man whose look told you he was made for penetrating into and poking about anything musty, or obscure. He was, indeed, thoroughly up to his business—in fact, not an abler or more experienced proctor was to be found in Doctor's Commons. As Mr. Pounce was not entirely unacquainted with the facts—having drawn up the case which had been submitted to Dr. Flare for his opinion as to the admissibility to probate of Mr. Parkinson's draft of Lady Stratton's intended will—it did not take long to put him in possession of the wishes and intentions of Mr. Runnington.
"Let us come away to Dr. Flare at once," quoth Pounce, putting his watch into his fob—"You'll catch him at home just now, I know, and perhaps in good-humor; and a short consultation with him will be worth half a dozen written opinions."