'Your uncle, Mr.Anthony Soane, as I understand, is alive ?' 'He disappeared in the Scotch troubles in '45,' Sir George reluctantly explained, 'was disinherited in favour of my father, sir, and has not since been heard from.' The attorney grew rigid with alertness; he was like nothing so much as a dog, expectant at a rat-hole.

'Attainted ?' he said.
'No!' said Sir George.
'Outlawed ?' 'No.' The attorney collapsed: no rat in the hole.

'Dear me, dear me, what a sad story!' he said; and then remembering that his client had profited, 'but out of evil--ahem! As I understand, sir, you wish all your real property, including the capital mansion house and demesne, to go to the eldest son of your uncle Mr.Anthony Soane in tail, remainder to the second son in tail, and, failing sons, to daughters--the usual settlement, in a word, sir.' 'Yes.' 'No exceptions, sir.' 'None.' 'Very good,' the attorney answered with the air of a man satisfied so far.

'And failing issue of your uncle?
To whom then, Sir George ?' 'To the Earl of Chatham.' Mr.Fishwick jumped in his seat; then bowed profoundly.
'Indeed! Indeed! How very interesting!' he murmured under his breath.
'Very remarkable! Very remarkable, and flattering.' Sir George stooped to explain.

'I have no near relations,' he said shortly.