I shall probably trouble you to meet me at a magistrate's tomorrow morning, where I will take my oath in his presence that those cheques are forgeries.

You will find alterations in my banker's book, too, I expect.

We'll look into it all to-morrow.

Come along, Dickson, my sly little weasel; I've a gay night's work for you; I'm going to leave all my property to my cousin Nick, my bitterest enemy, and a lawsuit with it that'll break his heart.

There's fun for the lawyers,--eh, my boy!" So talking, the old man strode firmly forth, with a bitter, malignant scowl on his flushed face.