"Allow me one moment. She inherited this fortune on the death of a Mr. Brian Luttrell, I think?"
"Exactly—but what——"
"Excuse me, Mr. Heron. I come to my piece of news at last. Miss Murray has no right to the property which she is enjoying. Mr. Brian Luttrell is alive!"
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A REVELATION.
Percival started from his chair. His first exclamation was a rather profane one, for which the monk immediately reproved him. He did not take much notice of the reproof: he stared hard at the young man for a minute or two, unconsciously repeated the objectionable expression, and then took one or two turns up and down the room. After which he came to a standstill, thrust his hands into his pockets, and allowed his features to relax into a sardonically-triumphant smile.
"You couldn't tell me a thing which I should be better pleased to hear," he said. "But I don't believe it's true."
This was rude, but the visitor was not disconcerted. He looked at Percival's masterful face with interest, and a little suspicion, and answered quietly:—
"I do not know exactly what evidence will satisfy you, sir. Of course, you will require evidence. I, myself, Bernardino Vasari of San Stefano, can testify that I saw Brian Luttrell in our monastery on the 27th day of November, some days after his reputed death. I can account for all his time after that date, and I can tell you where he is to be found at present. His cousin, Hugo Luttrell, has already recognised him, and, although he is much changed, I fancy that there would be small doubt about his identification."