"You seem to have inspired him with a remarkable degree of confidence, considering that you are an entire stranger to him."
It was merely a chance shot, but something in the expression of Rathborne's face gave her an idea like a flash of lightning.
"It is to be supposed," she went on before he could speak, "that you are convinced of the identity of this stranger with Mr. Singleton's son?"
"Do you imagine that if I were not—"
"I imagine nothing," she interposed; "and as a lawyer you can not need a reminder from me that it will be necessary for this person whom you represent, fully to prove his identity with the son whom Mr. Singleton believed to be dead."
It was perfectly true, and Rathborne knew it; but he was none the less astonished that she should have so clearly and immediately perceived it.
"I always knew that she was shrewd as the devil," he said to himself, while he observed aloud:—
"Do not flatter yourself with any hope that it is an impostor who is about to claim the fortune you have inherited. Nothing can be more certain than that it is Mr. Singleton himself. To attempt to deny his identity will only be to make yourself ridiculous, and to damage your cause more than the plain facts have damaged it already. Your lawyer, I am sure, will advise you better."
"Let me again refer you to that lawyer, if this is all you have to say to me," she answered, rising from her seat.
He rose also; and as they stood for a moment face to face, it proved impossible for him to restrain some words which rose to his lips, brought there in double bitterness by the sight of her proud, calm countenance.