trol."

"That's my business," said Soames sharply.

Gradman wrote on a piece of paper. "Life-interest--anticipation--divert
interest--absolute discretion..." and said:

"What trustees? There's young Mr. Kingson, he's a nice steady young
fellow."

"Yes, he might do for one. I must have three. There isn't a Forsyte now
who appeals to me."

"Not young Mr. Nicholas? He's at the Bar. We've given 'im briefs."

"He'll never set the Thames on fire," said Soames.

A smile oozed out on Gradman's face, greasy with countless
mutton-chops, the smile of a man who sits all day.

"You can't expect it, at his age, Mr. Soames."

"Why? What is he? Forty?"

"Ye-es, quite a young fellow."

"Well, put him in; but I want somebody who'll take a personal interest.
There's no one that I can see."

"What about Mr. Valerius, now he's come home?"

"Val Dartie? With that father?"

"We-ell," murmured Gradman, "he's been dead seven years--the Statute
runs against him."

"No," said Soames. "I don't like the connection."

He rose. Gradman said suddenly:

"If they were makin' a levy on capital, they could come on the
trustees, sir. So there you'd be just the same. I'd think it over, if I
were you."

"That's true," said Soames, "I will. What have you done about that
dilapidation notice in Vere Street?"

"I 'aven't served it yet. The party's very old. She won't want to go
out at her age."

"I don't know. This spirit of unrest touches every one."

"Still, I'm lookin' at things broadly, sir. She's eighty-one."

"Better serve it," said Soames, "and see what she says. Oh! and Mr.
Timothy? Is everything in order in case of accidents."

"I've got the inventory of his estate all ready; had the furniture and
pictures valued so that we know what reserves to put on. I shall be
sorry when he goes, though. Dear me! It is a time since I first saw Mr.
Timothy!"

"We can't live for ever," said Soames, taking down his hat.

"Nao," said Gradman; "but it'll be a pity--the last of the old family!
Shall I take up the matter of that nuisance in Old Compton Street?
Those organs--they're nahsty things."

"Do. I must call for Miss Fleur and catch the four o'clock. Good-day,
Gradman."

"Good-day, Mr. Soames. I hope Miss Fleur--"

"Well enough, but gads about too much."

"Ye-es," grated Gradman; "she's young."

Soames went out, musing: "Old Gradman! If he were younger I'd put him
in the trust. There's nobody I can depend on to take a real in