“I said, 'If,' my Lord—'If' is everything here. The assumption is that Reginald Conway was summoned by mistake to the House of Peers in Henry the Seventh's reign,—the true Baron Lackington being then an exile. It is from him this Conway's descent claims.”
“I'm not going to constitute myself a Committee of Privileges, sir, and listen to all this jargon; nor can I easily conceive that the unshaken possession of centuries is to be disturbed by the romantic pretensions of a Crimean soldier. I am also aware how men of your cloth conduct these affair to their own especial advantage. They assume to be the arbiters of the destinies of great families, and they expect to be paid for their labors,—eh, is n't it so?”
“I believe your Lordship has very accurately defined our position, though, perhaps, we might not quite agree as to the character of the remuneration.”
“How so? What do you mean?”
“I, for instance, my Lord, would furnish no bill of costs to either party. My relations with your Lordship are such as naturally give me a very deep interest in what concerns you; of Mr. Conway I know nothing.”
“So, then, you are simply moved in this present affair by a principle of pure benevolence; you are to be a sort of providence to the House of Lackington,—eh, is that it?”
“Your Lordship's explanation is most gracious,” said Dunn, bowing.
“Come, now; let us talk seriously,” said the Viscount, in a changed tone. “What is it you propose?”
“What I would suggest, my Lord,” said Dunn, with a marked emphasis on the word, “is this. Submit the documents of this claim—we can obtain copies of the most important of them—to competent opinion, learn if they be of the value I attribute to them, see, in fact, if this claim be prosecuted, whether it is likely to succeed at law, and, if so, anticipate the issue by a compromise.”
“But what compromise?”