“This is strange, very strange,” said Sir James, with his hand up to his forehead as he leant his elbow on the table.
After a pause, “Mr Saunders, will you answer me one question candidly? I feel I am not speaking to a mere Thames pilot—I do not wish to compliment, and if I did not feel as I state, I should not put these questions. Do you not know more about this person than you appear willing to divulge? There is something in your manner which tells me so.”
“That I know more than I have divulged is true, Sir James; but that I know more than I am willing to divulge is not the case, provided I find that the party who asks the question is sufficiently interested to warrant my so doing.”
“There can be no one more interested than I am,” replied Sir James, mournfully. “You tell me she is Irish—you describe a person such as I expected would be described, and my curiosity is naturally excited. May I ask what is her name?”
“The name that she goes by at present is St. Felix.”
“She had distant relations of that name; it may be one of them—yet how could they have obtained—? Yes, they might, sure enough!”
“That is not her real name, Sir James.”
“Not her real name! Do you then know what is her real name?”
“I believe I do, but I obtained it without her knowledge, from another party, who is since dead.”
“Ah! may I ask that name?”