“I have passed as William Rawton.”
The doctor started.
“You haven’t got the right sow by the ear as yet, doctor,” observed the gipsy, with the most admirable self-possession. “Him as you call Will Rawton was drowned years agone in Harcott’s millstream.”
“Audacious liar!” exclaimed Bourne, in a fury; “think not to disprove your identity.”
“I don’t intend to do so; but, as I observed before, you’ve got the wrong pig by the ear.”
“Then you are not William Rawton?”
“I have passed as him—that’s all.”
The doctor made no answer to this. He quietly walked into an adjoining room, without even so much as uttering a word. Presently he returned with something in his hand.
It was a miniature.
“Look at this,” he said, holding it before the gipsy.