“Of course.”
“And you, and you only, are Randolph Hay.”
“Undoubtedly. But there is another who has taken my name and estates.”
“He has taken your name and stolen and squandered a good deal of your money during the last few months; there is no doubt about that. Nor will you ever get a penny of that lost money back; there is no hope of that. These moneys he has obtained by fraud from your bailiff, John Prowt, of Haymore, and from your family solicitors, Sothoron & Drummond, at Lincoln’s Inns Fields. But, my dear sir, for all that, he has never been in possession of your estate.”
“Why not, when——”
“But he is not Randolph Hay, in whose name all the documents are made out.”
“But he is at Haymore Hall now. And it will require a legal process to get him out, for he will fight every inch of the ground.”
“Not at all! He is not at Haymore Hall, nor has he ever been there. His fraudulent presence is not known there. If he were there now, or ever had been there, or if his person were known there under his stolen name of Randolph Hay, then, I grant you, in that case we might have to meet some trouble and confusion, yet not much. And as it is, we shall have no trouble at all.”
“But this is strange. How is it that he has never been to Haymore?” inquired Ran.
“Because, it seems, he prefers to squander the revenues of the estate in Paris. But let me tell you what I have this afternoon learned of the fellow from Messrs. Sothoron & Drummond.”