He was not sure that it had value.

If it had, all chance of the estate was gone for him; it would be his uncle's.
Well, what did it matter?
Yes, it did matter: Andree! For her?
No, not for her.

He would play straight.

He would take his future as it came: he would not drop this paper into the water.
He smiled bitterly, got an envelope at a publichouse on the quay, wrote a few words in pencil on the document, and in a few moments it was on its way to Sir William Belward, who when he received it said: "Worthless, quite worthless, but he has an honest mind--an honest mind!" Meanwhile, Andree was in Paris.

Leaving her bag at the Gare Montparnasse, she had gone straight to Ian Belward's house.