s he derives from
the elder branch,--the Conway Beechers. All stuff and nonsense,--they
were extinct two hundred years ago,--but no matter, the claim is there,
and so circumstantially got up, and so backed by documents and the rest
of it, that Lackington is frightened,--frightened out of his wits. The
mere exposure, the very rumor of the thing, would distract _him_. He's
proud as Lucifer,--and then he's hard up; besides, he wants a loan, and
Dunn tells him there's no getting it till this affair is disposed of,
and that he has hit on the way to do it."

"As how?" said Davis, dryly.

"Well," resumed Beecher, whose utterance grew weaker and less audible at
every word, "Lackington, you know, has no children. It 's very unlikely
he ever will now; and Dunn's advice is that for a life interest in the
title and estates I should bind myself not to marry. That fellow then,
if he can make good his claim, comes in as next of kin after _me_; and
as to who or what comes after _me_," cried he, with more energy, "it
matters devilish little. Once 'toes up' and Annesley Beecher won't
fret over the next match that comes off,--eh, Grog, old fellow?" And he
endeavored by a forced jocularity to encourage his own sinking heart.

"Here's a shindy!" said Grog, as he mixed himself a fresh tumbler and
laid his arms crosswise on the table; "and so it's no less than the
whole stakes is on this match?"

"Title and all," chimed in Beecher.

"I was n't thinking of the title," said Grog, gruffly, as he relapsed
into a moody silence. "Now, what does my Lord say to it all?" asked he,
after a long pause.

"Lackington?--Lackington says nothing, or next to nothing. You read the
passage in his letter where he says, 'Call on Dunn,' or 'Speak to Dunn,'
or something like that,--he did n't even explain about what; and then
you may remember the foolish figure we cut on that morning we waited on
Dunn ourselves, not being able to say why or how we were there."

"I remember nothing about cutting a foolish figure anywhere or any time.
It's not very much _my_ habit. It ain't _my_ way of business."

"Well, I can't say as much," said Beecher, laughing; "and I own frankly
I never felt less at ease in my life."

"That's _your_ way of business," said Grog, nodding gravely at him.

"Every fellow is n't born as sharp as you, Davis. Samson was a wise
man--no, Solomon was a wise man--"

"Leave Samson and Solomon where they are," said Grog, puffing his cigar.
"What