As the day of the great case approached Blake got more and more

restless and irritable. He had heard of Hugh's going away to look

for a witness; but Peggy and Red Mick, in their ignorance, had

thought it best to keep all knowledge of the Considine flaw from

their lawyer--a mistake that wiser people than they sometimes make.

Blake suspected nothing. He had more than once seen Mary Grant and

Ellen Harriott in Tarrong, but he was again an outcast, relegated

to the society of such as Isaacstein.

Well, he would see it out, and would yet make these people glad to

crawl to him. Ellen Harriott he never spoke to. However the case

went and whoever won, she could be of no use to him, so he decided

to include her among his enemies; and though she went deathly

white when she saw him she made no sign of recognition. There was

one thing, however, which he had to do before taking the case into

Court, and that was to secure a fair share of the spoil for himself.

He had no intention of slaving at the case, perhaps for years, for

what he would get as costs. So, a week or two before the case was

due to come on, he sent for Peggy and Red Mick.

It was a hot summer day when Peggy came in. Out of doors there

was a blinding glare, and the heat had drawn the scent out of the

unseasoned pine with which Tarrong was mostly built, till the air

was filled with a sort of incense. Peggy came in hot and short-tempered.

The strain was beginning to tell on her nerves, and, from a remark

or two she let fall, Blake saw that she might be inclined to give

trouble if not promptly brought into subjection.

"I've sent for you," he said.

"Yis, and the fust thing--"

He interrupted her sharply.

"The first thing is, how much am I going to get out of this case

if I win it That is the first thing. You don't suppose I am going

to spend time and money and fight this case through all the Courts

in the land, and get nothing out of it, do you? How much am I to

get? We'll settle that before we go any further."

"Well, I'll ask Mick."

"You'll ask nobody. Mick isn't Grant's widow, and you are of age,

goodness knows. How much?"

"How much d'ye want?"

"I want one-third of what you get. That'll leave you nearly a million

of money. There will be well over a million to divide. There will

be a big lawsuit, and lots of appeals, and if I am to see it through

it will cost a great lot of money; so if I win I mean to make it

pay me. That's my figure. One-third. Take it or leave it."




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