“Humph!” mused Mr. Boffin. “When you say the square, you mean—”
“I mean,” said Venus, stoutly and shortly, “the right.”
“It appears to me,” said Mr. Boffin, grumbling over the fire in an injured manner, “that the right is with me, if it’s anywhere. I have much more right to the old man’s money than the Crown can ever have. What was the Crown to him except the King’s Taxes? Whereas, me and my wife, we was all in all to him.”
Mr. Venus, with his head upon his hands, rendered melancholy by the contemplation of Mr. Boffin’s avarice, only murmured to steep himself in the luxury of that frame of mind: “She did not wish so to regard herself, nor yet to be so regarded.”
“And how am I to live,” asked Mr. Boffin, piteously, “if I’m to be going buying fellows up out of the little that I’ve got? And how am I to set about it? When am I to get my money ready? When am I to make a bid? You haven’t told me when he threatens to drop down upon me.”
Venus explained under what conditions, and with what views, the dropping down upon Mr. Boffin was held over until the Mounds should be cleared away. Mr. Boffin listened attentively. “I suppose,” said he, with a gleam of hope, “there’s no doubt about the genuineness and date of this confounded will?”
“None whatever,” said Mr. Venus.
“Where might it be deposited at present?” asked Mr. Boffin, in a wheedling tone.
“It’s in my possession, sir.”
“Is it?” he cried, with great eagerness. “Now, for any liberal sum of money that could be agreed upon, Venus, would you put it in the fire?”