and Mrs. Hawkehurst, be so kind as to hand over my
share of the plunder.' That is not _like_ you, Phil."
"Perhaps you will be good enough to spare yourself the trouble of
speculating about my motives. Go your way, and leave me to go mine."
"But this is a case in which I have an interest. If Charlotte marries
Hawkehurst, I don't see how you are to profit, to any extent that you
would care about, by the Haygarth fortune. But, on the other hand, if she
should die unmarried, without a will, the money would go to your wife. O
my God! Philip Sheldon, is _THAT_ what you mean?"
The question was so sudden, the tone of horror in which it was spoken so
undisguised, that Mr. Sheldon the stockbroker was for one moment thrown
off his guard. His breath thickened; he tried to speak, but his dry lips
could shape no word. It was only one moment that he faltered. In the next
he turned upon his brother angrily, and asked what he meant.
"You've been promised _your_ reward," he said; "leave me to look after
mine. You'll take those papers round to Greenwood and Greenwood; they
want to talk to you about them."
"Yes, I'll take the papers."
Greenwood and Greenwood were Mr. Sheldon's own solicitors--a firm of some
distinction, on whose acumen and experience the stockbroker placed
implicit reliance. They were men of unblemished respectability, and to
them Mr. Sheldon had confided the care of his stepdaughter's interests,
always reserving the chief power in his own hands.
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