“I believe,” replied Markham, “that I saw him this morning for the first time in my life; for as I was leaving the house, I met a gentleman of clerical and morose look, who appeared as if he was the bearer of ill tidings.”
“Oh, very good, very good, he is the proper person to tell them. Well, but now, Mr. Markham, have you any idea of what will become of Mr. Martindale’s vast property? I am very much afraid that Price the lawyer will come in for a great share of it.”
“Indeed, Sir Andrew,” said Markham, “I have never given the subject a moment’s thought; but I have no doubt that a man of such natural acuteness as Mr. Martindale would not suffer himself to be imposed on or deceived by a country attorney. But what reason have you for imagining any thing of the kind?”
At this question Sir Andrew Featherstone shook his head and looked very wise; and he seemed pleased that Markham had given him an opportunity of entering upon the subject by way of explanation.
“Now I will tell you,” said the busy baronet; “Mr. Martindale and I have been long acquainted with each other, and very good friends we used to be in our younger days; but when Mr. Martindale came into possession of his large property, he rather altered his behaviour and was more distant: however, I bore no malice, but called on him as before. In time this shyness wore off; and one day when I was with him at Brigland, soon after he had finished building the Abbey, he told me that he had just been making his will. He was always very fond of making wills. I suppose he may have made twenty or thirty wills in the course of his life. Well, sir, he had been making a will, and he wished me for one to witness the will. Now I could not help, very naturally you know, just giving a glance of curiosity over the sheets; and the old gentleman said to me in his usual, hasty manner, ‘Read the will, man, read it; I don’t wish you to put your hand to you know not what.’ So I read it over, and signed it. I observed that legacies are given to a very considerable amount; and at last this fellow Price was named as one of the executors and residuary-legatee. I could not help remarking to Mr. Martindale that I thought he had been over-liberal to his confidential solicitor; for I was almost sure that by this arrangement he would have at least one-half of the old gentleman’s property.”
“But you do not mean, Sir Andrew, to say, that Mr. Martindale was not aware of the extent of his own property?” replied Markham.
“I do mean to say so,” said the baronet, “and I am sure of the fact; and the villany of this man Price consists in this, that knowing he is to be residuary-legatee, he keeps or has kept Mr. Martindale in the dark as to the real value of his property.”
“Well,” replied Markham, “it cannot now be helped. But it was a pity that you did not endeavour to undeceive Mr. Martindale.”
“Endeavour to undeceive him? Why, my good sir, how do you think that was possible! You surely were sufficiently acquainted with our worthy friend to know that he would never be convinced against his will.”
Markham smiled, and acknowledged the truth of this remark. But the consideration now was, what steps should be taken to ascertain the real state of Mr. Martindale, and what farther communication should be made to Signora Rivolta, and who should be the bearer of the intelligence. Sir Andrew Featherstone, by paying great compliments to Markham’s superior understanding, attempted to throw the burden on his shoulders; but the young barrister, though no more adverse to flattery than any one else, did not think a compliment from the lips of Sir Andrew quite sufficient recompense for the trouble of an unpleasant embassy, and therefore gave it up to him on whom it devolved with greater right and propriety. Poor Sir Andrew was grievously annoyed by his commission, but he felt himself bound to undertake it.