“What is the peerage sought for?” asked Davis, with an assumed indifference.
“I can tell you in five minutes if you have any curiosity on the subject,” said Paul, rising. “The papers are all in my writing-desk.”
“Fetch them,” said Davis, as he walked to the window and looked out.
Classon soon re-entered the room with a large open letter in his hand.
“There's the map of the country!” said he, throwing it down on the table. “What would you call the fair odds in such a case, Kit,—a private soldier's chance of a peerage that has been undisturbed since Edward the Third?”
“About ten thousand to one, I 'd call it.”
“I agree with you, particularly since Froode is in it. He only takes up these cases to make a compromise. They 're always 'settled.' He's a wonderful fellow to sink the chambers and charge the mine, but he never explodes,—never!”
“So that Froode can always be squared, eh?” asked Davis.
“Always.” Classon now ran his eyes over the letter, and, mumbling the lines half aloud, said, “In which case the Conways of Abergeldy, deriving from the second son, would take precedence of the Beecher branch.' The case is this,” added he, aloud: “Viscompt Lackington's peerage was united to the estates by an act of Edward; a motion for a repeal of this was made in Elizabeth's time, and lost—some aver the reverse; now the claimant, Conway, relies upon the original act, since in pursuit of the estates he invalidates the title. It's a case to extort money, and a good round sum too. I 'd say Lord Lack-ington might give twenty thousand to have all papers and documents of the claim surrendered into his hands.”
“A heavy sum, twenty thousand,” muttered Davis, slowly.