"I fear it is, your lordship."
"And it is absolutely untrue!" exclaimed Hugh with energy. "I know that! Mr. Nash knows it! Watkins knows it!"
"Then why not make the facts known?" suggested Mr. Bellowes.
"If we did so, we should have a negligible chance of establishing our point, and we should certainly lose whatever slight chance there may be of finding the treasure. I am sure my uncle would have wished us to go after the treasure at any cost."
"The treasure!" Mr. Bellowes permitted himself a faint smile of amusement. "Am I to understand that your lordship has succumbed to this fatal lure?"
"You may understand I am extremely interested in the possibility of finding it," retorted Hugh.
"Dear, dear!" murmured the aged solicitor, genuinely distressed. "Surely, you will listen to reason, sir. This Fata Morgana—if I may term it so—has exercised an evil influence upon your family time out of mind. Your uncle is one of a number of people whose lives have been cursed by its futile spell. I do hope you will permit me to urge you to abandon an attempt which must infallibly dissipate whatever is left of your estate."
"But you tell me that the estate is wrecked in any case," replied Hugh. "I do not blame you for one instant for being skeptical, Mr. Bellowes. I felt so, myself, until recent events forced me to the conclusion that there may—notice, please, that I say may—be more to the matter than I had imagined.
"I am anxious to secure your advice, and therefore I propose that Mr. Nash and I recount for you and Mr. Zaranko precisely what happened in connection with my uncle's visit to New York."
So we began at the beginning, with the time I found the messenger boy studying the door-card of our apartment, and carried the tale through to Lord Chesby's death in Bellevue. Mr. Bellowes was visibly shocked.