I went straight to Mr. Swain's chambers in the Circle, where I found the
good barrister and Captain Daniel in their shirt-sleeves, seated between
the windows in the back room. Mr. Swain was grave enough when he heard
of my talk with Grafton, but the captain swore I was my father's son (for
the fiftieth time since I had come back), and that a man could no more
help flying at Grafton's face than Knipe could resist his legs; or
Cynthia his back, if he went into her stall. I had scarce finished my
recital, when Mr. Renwick, the barrister's clerk, announced Mr. Tucker,
which caused Mr. Swain to let out a whistle of surprise.

"So the wind blows from that quarter, Daniel," said he. "I thought so."

Mr. Tucker proved to be the pettifogger into whose hands Grafton had put
his affairs, taking them from Mr. Dulany at Mr. Carvel's death. The man
was all in a sweat, and had hardly got in the door before he began to
talk. He had no less astonishing a proposition to make than this, which
he enunciated with much mouthing of the honour and sense of duty of Mr.
Grafton Carvel. His client offered to Mr. Richard Carvel the estate
lying in Kent County, embracing thirty-three hundred acres more or less
of arable land and woodland, with a fine new house, together with the
indented servants and negroes and other chattels thereon. Mr. Richard
Carvel would observe that in making this generous offer for the welfare
of his nephew, Mr. Tucker's client was far beyond the letter of his
obligations; wherefore Mr. Grafton Carvel made it contingent upon the
acceptance of the estate that his nephew should sign a paper renouncing
forever any claims upon the properties of the late Mr. Lionel Carvel.
This condition was so deftly rolled up in law-Latin that I did not
understand a word of it until Mr. Swain stated it very briefly in
English. His quiet laugh prodigiously disconcerted the pettifogger,