'I do. But I'm not going to.'
'Well,' he said, 'I hardly see . . . My duty will compel me to take steps . . .'
'Of course,' said Victoria smiling, 'but if you refuse to let me alone I shall go out of this office, have the furniture moved to-day and put up at auction to-morrow.'
A smile came over the solicitor's face. By Jove, she was a fine woman, and she had some spirit.
'Besides,' she added, 'all this would cause me a great deal of annoyance. Major Cairns's affairs are still very interesting to the public. I shall be compelled, if you make me sell, to write a serial, say My Life with an Irish Martyr for a Sunday paper.'
Mr Bastable laughed frankly.
'You want to be nasty, I see. But you know, we can stop your sale by an application to a judge in chambers this afternoon. And as for your serial, well, Major Cairns is dead, he won't mind.'
'No, but his aunts will. Their name is Cairns. As regards the sale, perhaps you and the other lawyers can stop it. Very well, either you promise or I go home and . . . perhaps there'll be a fire to-night and perhaps there won't. I'm fully insured.'
'By Jove!' Bastable looked at her critically. Cairns had been a lucky man. 'Well, Mrs Ferris,' he added, 'we're not used to troublesome customers like you. I don't suppose the furniture is valuable, is it?'
'Oh, a couple of hundred,' said Victoria dishonestly.