"That's what I can't tell. Hang it all my memory's not worth a rush now. When folks grow old, Frank, their memory fails them."
"I remember your words to me at the time, Uncle Francis: they were that I came in for a good slice."
"Did I? When?"
"When you came back from London, and were telling my aunt about the will. I was present: it was in this very room. 'You come in for a good slice, Frank,' you said, turning to me."
"Didn't I say how much?"
"No. And I did not like to ask you. Of course you knew how much it was?"
"Of course I did. I read the will."
"I wish you could remember."
"I wish I could, Frank. I ought to. I'll sleep upon it, and perhaps it will come to me in the morning."