"A while ago, your Lordship, you intimated to me — as 1 told this lady and gentleman — that, if I could offer you the proof I said I could," Whistler cleared his throat, "you would not — ah—"
"Well? Well? Where's the proof? I don't see it?"
"These witnesses, you see—"
Morgan got ready, steadying himself. It was unnecessary.
"Who are you, young man? Are you the nephew of a friend of mine? Are you Warpus's nephew? Eh?"
"No, your Lordship," interposed the captain. "This is Mr. Henry Morgan, the very distinguished writer, who I thought would offer evidence acceptable… "
Sturton laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. Morgan glanced at Peggy, who had begun to grow frightened. Sturton laughed again.
"Fail first count. You'd make no lawyer. I want witnesses I know of. Er — Commander, you stated to me, I think, that you believed you could produce this nephew. Where is he?"
He leaned out and flung the question with a snap of impatience.
The Parcae were at it again. Morgan could have whistled In admiring astonishment, or sworn from the same situation.