“Then you know his object in having gone there? You know who he is, what he represents, what he claims?”
“I know the whole story by heart.”
“Will you favor me with your version of it?”
“With pleasure; but here is the carriage. Let us get in, for the narrative is somewhat long and complicated.”
“Before you begin, sir, one question: where is my son now? is he at Rome?”
“He is; he arrived there on Tuesday last.”
“That is enough,—excuse my interrupting,—I am now at your orders.”
The reader will readily excuse me if I do not follow Mr. Cutbill in his story, which he told at full length, and with what showed a perfect knowledge of all the circumstances. It is true he was so far disingenuous that he did not confess the claim had ever created alarm to the minds of the Bramleighs. There were certain difficulties, he admitted, and no small expense incurred in obtaining information abroad, and proving, as it was distinctly proved, that no issue of Montague Bramleigh had survived, and that the pretensions of Pracontal were totally groundless.
“And your visit to Savoy was on this very business?” asked Baldassare.
“You are right; a small detail was wanting which I was able to supply.”