“Tell him,” said Sir Robert, “we will wait upon him immediately.”
As Oswald went away, he heard Wenlock say, “So Edmund is gone, it is no matter how, or whither.”
Another said, “I hope the ghost has taken him out of the way.” The rest laughed at the conceit, as they followed Oswald down stairs. They found the Baron, and his son William, commenting upon the key and the letter. My lord gave them to Sir Robert, who looked on them with marks of surprise and confusion.
The Baron addressed him—
“Is not this a very strange affair? Son Robert, lay aside your ill humours, and behave to your father with the respect and affection his tenderness deserves from you, and give me your advice and opinion on this alarming subject.”
“My Lord,” said Sir Robert, “I am as much confounded as yourself—I can give no advice—let my cousins see the letter—let us have their opinion.”
They read it in turn—they were equally surprised; but when it came into Wenlock’s hand, he paused and meditated some minutes.
At length—“I am indeed surprised, and still more concerned, to see my lord and uncle the dupe of an artful contrivance; and, if he will permit me, I shall endeavour to unriddle it, to the confusion of all that are concerned in it.”
“Do so, Dick,” said my lord, “and you shall have my thanks for it.”
“This letter,” said he, “I imagine to be the contrivance of Edmund, or some ingenious friend of his, to conceal some designs they have against the peace of this family, which has been too often disturbed upon that rascal’s account.”