“Norman, yes! Henry the Second gave it to his barber—Bertram Courval.”
“That’s it!—that’s it! Lord de Courval—singular coincidence!—descent from the old line. Herald’s College soon settle all that. Lord de Courval!—nothing can sound better. There must be a village or hamlet still called Courval about the property.”
“I am afraid not. There is Coddle End!”
“Coddle End!—Coddle End!—the very thing, sir—the very thing—clear corruption from Courval!—Lord de Courval of Courval! Superb! Ha! ha!”
“Ha! ha!” laughed Templeton, and he had hardly laughed before since he was thirty.
The relations sat long and conversed familiarly. Ferrers slept at the villa, and his sleep was sound; for he thought little of plans once formed and half executed; it was the hunt that kept him awake, and he slept like a hound when the prey was down. Not so Templeton, who did not close his eyes all night.—“Yes, yes,” thought he, “I must get the fortune and the title in one line by a prudent management. Ferrers deserves what I mean to do for him. Steady, good-natured, frank, and will get on—yes, yes, I see it all. Meanwhile I did well to prevent his standing for C———; might pick up gossip about Mrs. T., and other things that might be unpleasant. Ah, I’m a shrewd fellow!”
CHAPTER III.
“Lauzun.—There, Marquis, there, I’ve done it.
Montespan.—Done it! yes! Nice doings!”
The Duchess de la Valliere.
LUMLEY hastened to strike while the iron was hot. The next morning he went straight to the Treasury—saw the managing secretary, a clever, sharp man, who, like Ferrers, carried off intrigue and manoeuvre by a blunt, careless, bluff manner.