marvelling at the little man's shrewdness.

Peter smiled in a sickly fashion. 'If your honour would but allow me?'
he said. He saw a great chance slipping from him, and his voice was
plaintive.

It moved Sir George to compassion. 'Where is your practice?' he asked
ungraciously.

The attorney felt a surprising inclination to candour. 'At Wallingford,'
he said, 'it should be. But--' and there he stopped, shrugging his
shoulders, and leaving the rest unsaid.

'_Can_ you make a will?' Sir George retorted.

'No man better,' said Peter with confidence; and on the instant he drew
a chair to the table, seized the pen, and bent the nib on his thumbnail;
then he said briskly, 'I wait your commands, sir.'

Sir George stared in some embarrassment--he had not expected to be taken
so literally; but, after a moment's hesitation, reflecting that to write
down his wishes with his own hand would give him more trouble, and that
he might as well trust this stranger as that, he accepted the situation.
'Take down what I wish, then,' he said. 'Put it into form afterwards,
and bring it to me when I rise. Can you be secret?'

'Try me,' Peter answered with enthusiasm. 'For a good client I would
bite off my tongue.'

'Very well, then, listen!' Sir George said. And presently, after some