“I don’t want to know, anything, West. His father may have been the Archbishop of Canterbury for all I care; but the chances are that he was a convict—or a descendant of convicts.”
“You have not guessed very wide of the mark; his father was a convict.”
“What; and you are here to suggest that—that—good lord, Severn, are you mad—oh, you must be mad?”
“I do not consider that he is anything the worse for being the son of a convict, West. There is always the possibility of a convict being innocent.”
“Oh, they all affirm their innocence, of course. Now, that is all I want to hear about either father or son. You will stay to lunch, I hope—oh, yes, you must stay to lunch. The Marquis may drop in afterwards; his son is certainly coming. You know Lord Lullworth—a promising young fellow, Severn—quite promising. Come upstairs; Lady Gwendolen will be pleased.”
“One moment, my dear West. I happen to know that the convict father of Pierce Winwood, as he calls himself, was innocent of the crime for which he suffered.”
“Then comfort the son with that information. He will be glad to believe it, I am confident.”
“Shall I add to that information the name of the criminal on whose behalf he suffered?”
“You may add the names of all the heroes of the Newgate Calendar, if you please, my dear friend.”
“I will not offer him so interesting a catalogue. But come with me—I have taken the liberty of bringing him here with me: he is upstairs—I will give him the name of the real criminal in your presence and in the presence of the Marquis and the Marquis’s son and also present him with the proofs, which I have in my pocket, that I have not made a mistake.”