“We give them that,” cried the lawyer, who fancied himself already instructing counsel. “We contest nothing,—notice, registry, witnesses, all are as legal as they could wish. The girl was Mrs. Bramleigh, and her son, Montague Bramleigh's heir. Death, however, carried away both, and the claim fell with them. That these people will risk a trial now is more than I can believe; but if they should, we will be prepared for them. They shall be indicted before they leave the court, and Count Pracontal de Bramleigh be put in the dock for forgery.”
“No such thing, Sedley!” broke in Bramleigh, with an energy very rare with him. “I am well inclined to believe that this young man was no party to the fraud,—he has been duped throughout; nor can I forget the handsome terms he extended to us when our fortune looked darkest.”
“A generosity on which late events have thrown a very ugly light,” muttered Sedley.
“My brother is right. I 'll be sworn he is,” cried Jack. “We should be utterly unworthy of the good luck that has befallen us, if the first use we made of it was to crush another.”
“If your doctrines were to prevail, sir, it would be a very puzzling world to live in,” said Sedley, sharply.
“We 'd manage to get on with fewer lawyers, anyway.”
“Mr. Sedley,” said Nelly, mildly, “we are all too happy and too gratified for this unlooked-for deliverance to have a thought for what is to cause suffering anywhere. Let us, I entreat you, have the full enjoyment of this great happiness.”
“Then we are probably to include the notable Mr. Cutbill in this act of indemnity?” said Sedley, sneeringly.
“I should think we would, sir,” replied Jack. “Without the notable Mr. Cutbill's aid we should never have chanced on those papers you have just quoted to us.”
“Has he been housebreaking again?” asked Sedley, with a grin.