And they led the way to the dining room.
Almost immediately after dinner, when the party returned to the drawing room, Lord Enderby excused himself, and retired to his own apartments, attended by his secretary and his valet.
Mr. and Mrs. Force, and the young people, remained in the drawing room, where Mr. Force gave a more detailed account of his journey into Lancashire, his researches at Anglewood, and all the circumstances that led to the detection of the perpetrators of the obituary fraud.
“That is the way—or, rather, one way—in which false evidence can be manufactured,” he said, in conclusion.
It was late before the excited family party retired to rest.
It was not until after breakfast the next morning, when the young people had gone to take a walk on the edge of the cliff, and the three elders were seated together in the library of the castle, that Mr. Force told Lord Enderby the story of his journey into Lancashire, and its results.
The poor earl looked the image of distress and perplexity; his face, that was always pale, grew paler; his frame, that was always infirm, grew shaky; and his voice, always weak, became tremulous, as he said:
“I am amazed beyond all measure. I am grieved to the very soul. And—I am all but incredulous. Angus Anglesea, my comrade in India! My ‘brother-in-arms,’ as I used fondly to call him. Angus Anglesea, the very soul of truth and honor. Not overwise or prudent, but brave and good to his heart’s core. I have not seen him for years, it is true; but I had lost no faith in or affection for him. Circumstances have separated us; but neither coldness nor distrust had estranged us. And now you tell me, Force, that this man has radically, fundamentally changed his very nature—his very self—that the man of pure truth, honor and heroism has turned into an utter villain—a thief, a forger, a bigamist, an unequaled scoundrel!”
The earl paused and groaned as in pain.
“I am sorry to grieve you, my lord, but I have brought unquestionable proofs of the charges that I have made,” said Mr. Force.