Without heeding the last assertion, the stranger coolly walked back, resumed his seat, and, placing both arms on the table and looking Mr. Beaufort full in the face, thus proceeded,—
“Sir, of the marriage between Philip Beaufort and Catherine Morton there were two witnesses: the one is dead, the other went abroad—the last is alive still!”
“If so,” said Mr. Beaufort, who, not naturally deficient in cunning and sense, felt every faculty now prodigiously sharpened, and was resolved to know the precise grounds for alarm,—“if so, why did not the man—it was a servant, sir, a man-servant, whom Mrs. Morton pretended to rely on—appear on the trial?”
“Because, I say, he was abroad and could not be found; or, the search after him miscaurried, from clumsy management and a lack of the rhino.”
“Hum!” said Mr. Beaufort—“one witness—one witness, observe, there is only one!—does not alarm me much. It is not what a man deposes, it is what a jury believe, sir! Moreover, what has become of the young men? They have never been heard of for years. They are probably dead; if so, I am heir-at-law!”
“I know where one of them is to be found at all events.”
“The elder?—Philip?” asked Mr. Beaufort anxiously, and with a fearful remembrance of the energetic and vehement character prematurely exhibited by his nephew.
“Pawdon me! I need not aunswer that question.”
“Sir! a lawsuit of this nature, against one in possession, is very doubtful, and,” added the rich man, drawing himself up—“and, perhaps very expensive!”
“The young man I speak of does not want friends, who will not grudge the money.”