his grandfather's death. And even if suspicion is put to sleep for
awhile, it can easily be reawakened, so--cash! We must profit at
once--before any future risk arises. But--what terms were you thinking
of?"

"Stewardship of this estate for life," muttered Pratt gloomily.

"With the risk of some discovery being made, some time, any time!"
sneered Parrawhite. "Where are your brains, man? The old fellow, John
Mallathorpe, probably made a draft or two of that will before he did his
fair copy--he may have left those drafts among his papers."

"If he did, Mrs. Mallathorpe 'ud find 'em," said Pratt slowly. "I don't
believe there's the slightest risk. I've figured everything out. I don't
believe there's any danger from Collingwood or from anybody--it's
impossible! And if we take cash now--we're selling for a penny what we
ought to get pounds for."

"The present is much more important than the future, my friend,"
answered Parrawhite. "To me, at any rate. Now, then, this is my
proposal. I'll be with you when this lady calls at your place tomorrow
evening. We'll offer her the will, to do what she likes with, for ten
thousand pounds. She can find that--quickly. When she pays--as she
will!--we share, equally, and then--well, you can go to the devil! I
shall go--somewhere else. So that's settled."

"No!" said Pratt.

Parrawhite turned sharply, and Pratt saw a sinister gleam in his eyes.