“Nice name,” observed Bob.
“Very. Are you inclined, as a member of the family, to run over to Lincolnshire and lay the case before your cousins? If they can be persuaded to give up their claim without a suit, a vast amount of money will be saved—and it can only end in one way, I can assure you. There’s not a link missing.”
“All right,” answered Trevelyan. “Who are poor Randolph’s solicitors? I shall have to know the name and address.”
Dr. Steele handed him the neat package of copies that lay tied up on the desk. The lawyer’s name was stamped on the outside of the first paper.
“I suppose I had better say nothing to my sister and our friends?” said Bob in a tone of interrogation.
“I think not. Miss Scott should be informed by the solicitors.”
“She’ll have a surprise,” observed Bob, thinking of the blotched face and red nose of the pimping governess he had seen at King’s Follitt. “I’ll just tell my party that you wanted to inform me of poor Randolph’s death.”
“Precisely. That will explain our interview.”
So that was the end of the ballooning adventure. After thanking Dr. Steele very warmly for his hospitality the party left on the following morning, the balloon having been duly packed and carted to the station and put on the London train.
It will be clear to the most simple-minded reader that the descent of the party in the grounds of the asylum was not the grand incident which really led to the identification of Miss Scott by establishing the long-sought link in the evidence. That would have been thrilling, of course; but such things do not happen in real life, and when they do people do not believe they do. The simple result of the coincidence was that Bob Trevelyan took the affair in hand, and managed it so that it was all settled very quickly and out of court, which saved ever so much time and money, to the great disappointment of several solicitors.