“Come in here, then. Meanwhile, Sam, make out that deed; for we may go on without the proof of demise.”
Few and vague as the words were, their real meaning flashed on me, and I perceived that Mr. Basset was engaged in the search of some evidence of my death, doubtless to enable the heir-at-law to succeed to the estates of my brother. The moment the idea struck me, I felt assured of its certainty, and at once determined on the plan I should adopt.
“You have inserted an advertisement regarding a Mr. Burke,” said I, as soon as the door was closed, and we were alone together. “What are the particular circumstances of which you desire proof?”
“The place, date, and manner of his death,” replied he, slowly; “for though informed that such occurred abroad, an authentic evidence of the fact will save some trouble. Circumstances to identify the individual with the person we mean, of course, must be offered; showing whence he came, his probable age, and so on. For this intelligence I am prepared to pay liberally; at least a hundred pounds may be thought so.”
“It is a question of succession to some property, I have heard.”
“Yes; but the information is not of such moment as you may suppose,” replied he, quickly, and with the wariness of his calling anticipating the value I might be disposed to place on my intelligence. “We are satisfied with the fact of the death; and even were it otherwise, the individual most concerned is little likely to disprove the belief, his own reasons will probably keep him from visiting Ireland.”
“Indeed!” I exclaimed, the word escaping my lips ere I could check its utterance.
“Even so,” resumed he. “But this, of course, has no interest for you. Your accent bespeaks you a foreigner. Have you any information to offer on this matter?”
“Yes; if we speak of the same individual, who may have left this country about 1800 as a boy of some fourteen years of age, and entered the 'École Polytechnique' of Paris.”
“Like enough. Continue, if you please; what became of him afterwards?”